Catch
by juliasejanus
Summary: Alex could never catch a break. He tries to escape his demons on his own terms but there is always something to drag him down.
1. Chapter 1

Seventeen. Happy 17th Birthday. Like fuck it was. Alex had had the pleasure of St. Dominic's for four days and now he was transferring to Harlesden Hall. Detained under Section 2 of the Mental Health Act for 28 days. Alex Rider was a danger to himself and others. Thats what you get for running away and trying to kill yourself when the bastards try to drag you back to MI6. Alex would never forget the look on the guards face as he walked in on Alex hanging from the ceiling by his jumper. Alex had just wanted to make sure they never used him again. The Pleasure's had long since returned to the good old US of A. Alex quite liked hustling on the streets, pickpocketing, shoplifting, a bit of burglary; he had not resorted to sucking old perves off though. Alex at least had some standards.

Alex looked at the grim Gothic horror of a private clinic. High walls, razor wire, CCTV and two checkpoints to get in. Fort Bloody Knox.

Alex was pulled out of the car by the large nurse who accompanied him from St. Dominics. "Welcome to the Hall, kid. Don't get many as young as you, here. Come on in and get settled and the doc'll come and evaluate you."

Alex stripped with no fuss and showered in full view of Dennis. His clothes were packed away and he was handed some loose pants and top and slip on soft shoes. The new outfit was garish with a bright red stripe woven in. "No name tag?"

"No Alex there are four in your group. You'll get to know everyone here very well soon enough. I'll introduce you to all the staff. Get settled and get your shit together. Think of it as a bit of a retreat. I'll be like a holiday compared to the streets" said the large gruff Mancunian.

Alex had been poked and prodded at St. Dominic's. It had been twenty questions about what he'd been up to in the four months he'd been off the radar. He'd had trace amounts of alcohol, cannabis and cocaine in his system so the nosy bastards had him down as a possible addict.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex's room was nice enough. So was the shrink, polite, talking of goals for treatment and giving Alex choices. The view was over the grounds and showed a well tended lawn, tennis courts, sparse woods and fields beyond. He'd been given the spiel about housekeeping. In the evaluation unit he had to be escorted to use the john and wash. Meals were communal and at set times. Medication had to be taken without fail and no anger, aggression nor violence to himself, other patients or the staff was tolerated. If he crossed the line it was time out in his room, if he was considered out of control or dangerous it was a secure room, tranquillised and restrained.

Alex saw the bed pulled off the blanket and went to sleep in the corner. Too many nights sleeping rough meant he had not slept well at St. Dominics.

Mhaire the duty nurse took one look at Alex and wanted to mother the poor boy. To make the decision at 16 that life was not worth living made her blood run cold. Dennis had told her of Alex running away from his foster parents, living rough and doing got knows what to survive, before the police caught up with him and then tried to hang himself.

Dr Vas Kahn read the unedited top secret file MI6 had sent over. He noted the names of the MI6 officers responsible for this FUBAR. Using a kid for operations then dropping the child here when they broke him. Alex had advanced PTSD, depression and a huge attitude problem with anyone in authority. Abused kids needed stability and support. He'd get the nurses to try a softly softly approach with Alex. Vas wanted Alex out of here in 28 days and in a halfway house. Vas knew at least three teenage units which he could contact in the capital or maybe a more rural approach, there was that place run by the church on the North York Moors.


	3. Chapter 3

Something cracked when Alex saw what was served for lunch. He felt raw and emotional. Roast Fucking lamb congealing on his plate. Alex was softly sobbing when Dennis checked up on him. The three other inmates ignoring the distressed teen. Each of them had had those moments. Alex did not protest when he was led back to his room and he dutifully lay on his freshly made bed and allowed three years of hurt to bleed out of him. There was suddenly no need for complete control nor the need to pretend to be something he wasn't. Here he was just Alex. Here he could let all the masks go. He'd let them try and mend all the broken pieces, he had nothing left to loose.

Vas had not expected a breakdown from Alex, so soon. Why Roast lamb? The doctor wondered what other seeming ordinary things would lead to episodes for his young charge.

Alex had settled into the routine of the Hall. The staff were all kind and supportive. The other guys in this section were all military or ex-military. Alex guessed it was full security clearance just to talk about the fuck ups that had put them all there. Mike and Gaz were just back from Iraq. Alex had no idea why Steve was here apart from he seemed to know about Alex's past.

Vas smiled a cold humourless smile at the two members of MI6 who had turned up for Alex's development meeting prior to the sectioning lapsing. John Crawley and Ben Daniels listened as Dr Khan described a worn out, emotionally distraught teenager who had failed to connect back in with normal life when fostered at the age of fifteen. Alex had spent a year pretending to be the boy the Pleasures expected, lying to his therapist in California, because how do you explain how shit his life had been when faced with smiling, happy people who had no idea of the true horrors in his past. Alex still had flashbacks and horrific nightmares. He had self medicated himself with sleeping pills, cannabis and alcohol during his time in California and on the streets. Edward Pleasure had threatened Alex with rehab when he had found Alex's stash of vodka, dope and pills. Alex had left after Edward had flushed it all down the toilet during their visit to England five months previously. Alex was slowly accepting help and beginning to trust the staff. Alex was staying for another three weeks as a voluntary patient in the low security unit, where he could go on outings to the local town for shops, cinema and for meals and be a normal teenager. After that he had a place at Baysdale.

Then the younger man piped up "Baysdale?"

"Former TB sanitarium now a therapy centre about 15 miles from Guisborough. Run by four Franciscan monks including the original founder, Martin Saar. They take young violent offenders, drug addicts, sexually abused teenagers and alcoholics and through work on the attached farm and local ecological projects rehabilitate kids to be functioning members of society. The phys-ed instructor and the farm manager are both ex-SAS and the head of therapy used to work here. Alex can talk about everything confidentially there and in twelve to eighteen months hopefully have got his A Levels and go to uni. Alex will be expected to be clean, as in no medication. They work from 5am to 9pm. The centre is surprising self sufficient."

Ben then piped up, "How does Alex fit into their MO?"

Vas fixed the MI6 agent with a glare and then spoke of cold hard facts, "Alex has killed as part of operations, several times. Jack's death and his involvement with his doppelganger has left Alex with a complex of guilt, paranoia and severe self hatred. His violence has all been internalized. His attempted hanging was the culmination of a pattern of risk taking and self harm that had escalated since Ian Rider's death. Alex has ingrained sociopathic tendancies. His progress is on a knife edge. He could go three ways, normal, killer or fall back into the cycle of depression and self harm."

Crawley or Crawley's boss were pushing for a further six months sectioning. Vaz was opposed to this on several levels, mostly the fact of personal trust. Alex needed to feel in control and have a basis of trust with the medical staff. Getting him to agree to his programme of therapy meant Alex was no longer delusional or dangerous but actively seeking help and recovery.

Vaz had been quietly pleased with Alex's progress, he had spoken to his friend Michael Goddard at Baysdale. The idea was to push Alex to excel again, take up sport, study hard, make friends and have long term goals. Alex surprisingly was quite innocent, still a virgin. He talked of crushes at 14 and 15. Jack's death had stopped Alex's emotional attachments. He had gone to California and been unable to continue his tentative relationship with Sabina. Sex and sexuality were an open book. Alex admitted to being attracted by the assassin Yassen Gregorovich.


	4. Chapter 4

The April day was warm and fine as Alex travelled to his new home. He was surprised when a monk in full habit met him at York Railway Station. "Hi, Alex. I'm David Castille. I hope you had a pleasant journey."

"It was OK, I guess." Alex answered in standard teenager mode.

David then continued "Well, we have an hours drive, do you require any refreshments or need to use the facilities before we go."

Alex looked quite fearful at being left on his own to wander about the station and mumbled "'m fine".

David smiled sadly at the obviously lost young man before him. He then lead Alex across the station to the car park to a beat up ex Army Landrover.

David had been in Alex's place ten years previously, a lonely depressed kid whose life was turned around by Martin and his team. He had returned to take his vows of poverty, chastity and obedience following the path of St. Francis.

David looked at Alex as he drove up the A19 and decided to tell his life story. "Well, I was a resident at Baysdale in 1995 after I'd spent four months in a secure unit and had attempted suicide three times. I was here for three years, got my GCSE's and A Levels, went to uni, spent 2 years as an aid worker in Africa before coming back here and after deciding on my vocation".

Alex looked at the young man driving. "I know nothing about religion. I kind of like the idea of seeing Yassen, Ian and Jack again when I die."

David listened to that statement and was a bit disturbed. "Grief makes you loose focus on life and you become quite fixated on what you have lost. My twin brother died when I was fourteen. My mum left and I was completely lost for a while."

"Loosing those you love is shit. You're left to deal with the uncertainty and you feel so helpless." added Alex.

"Things do get better. You need friends and to make family on your own terms. Tragedy shapes us. Finding your place is part of honouring those we have lost. I find it much more hurtful is the relationships with those still alive which you can't mend." David added.

"Oh, your mum?"

"Yes my mother." There was a whole conversation in three words. David added, "She thinks I'm a religious fanatic and that the friars brainwashed me. She is a life long communist and atheist. So taking holy orders is an anathema to her."

"Complete bitch then." It kind of echoed Alex's problems with the Pleasures. He had no common ground to explain his problems and Edward had just jumped to conclusions. Everyone at the Hall had worked to get Alex to connect with dreams and goals and get out of the rut of complete guilt and self hatred not just label him as an out of control addict and too dangerous to be around.

"More or less. I do pray for her, but.." added the monk.

Alex interrupted "Yeah always a but."

"Yes, she walked out when I needed her the most and the staff at Baysdale became my new family. She has not realised that she has to make an effort to connect and understand for our relationship to work."

"Does your dad support you?"

"We talk twice a year. He was always an intermittent parent."

Shit broken home. Alex thought about Ian "My uncle just didn't do commitment, affection or family stability in general. I was lucky to see him outside of holidays. It was a series of housekeepers, Jack was there but she never said anything about Ian being neglectful. Ian should never have been given responsibility of a child."

"Most of the boys at Baysdale have similar backgrounds."

"None are rich kids gone bad?" Alex thought about the kids at Point Blanc and Paul Drevin, unhappy despite having everything.

"No, they tend to go to the more salubrious establishments, like the Priory."

Alex smiled. Common denominator. Everyone has had a shit life. Nothing to have a chip about. Complete level playing field.


	5. Chapter 5

The landrover pulled off the A19 towards Great Ayton, then off a roundabout on to a B road to Castleton. Under a railway bridge and along the tarmaced lane until a sharp turn into a gateway. A house sign marked Baysdale was hanging off the gate. Alex expected to be turning into the farm but the track went on and on, past fields then began to rise onto the moors, winding back against itself the lane went past a fence line and over a cattle grid. Three miles later, the bleak moor stretched in all directions and then they dropped into a valley over another cattle grid with fence and fields were seen again. The road swung round and Alex could see his destination.

Alex arrived at a farm with two standstone barns and a red brick two storey house with large south facing windows. David showed him to a sunny room shared with two others. Bed, small cupboard and drawers under the bed for your personal effects. Uniforms were provided and Alex's clothes were folded in neat piles on his bed, new boots and slippers on the floor. The room was for sleeping. Studying was done in the classroom and library. Eating in the refectory. There were communal bathrooms. Shared laundry duty, kitchen duty and work-rota. Prayers in the morning, at breakfast, lunch, dinner and before bed. The monks worked along side the residents. PE every morning after prayers and before breakfast. Alex put his few belongings away.

Alex was down for religious education introduction with the head honcho, Martin. The old man had white hair and a white beard and looked like Father Christmas. He spoke with raspy voice of the purpose of a life of toil and poverty to reflect with the principals of Christ and St Francis. Alex told Martin he had been to church as a child with Madam Cloris in Paris and Maria, the housekeeper in Madrid. But nothing after Jack arrived on the scene. Alex had no idea if Ian was Anglican or Roman Catholic. The minister at Ian's funeral had been a complete stranger, but on reflection Ian himself had been a complete stranger. "Despite being brought up by my paternal uncle, I know very little of my family and next to nothing about my mother. I could even be Jewish!" Alex exclaimed.

"Do you think your mother's family are still alive?"

Alex thought on this "I actually could not give a crap about them. They left me to be brought up by a fucking sociopath." That was the best term for Ian fucking Rider and his grand plan to train Alex to be a perfect spy. "I've had bad experiences of meeting my father's old friends and my godfather turned out to be worse than that bastard Ian." Alex then thought about Edward, Maggie and Sabina , "Not that I'm an expert on happy families. My placement with my foster family was a complete and utter disaster."

"I think you have to find peace. Then you can make connections and finally trust. Family will come even if its just a group of misfits living in the same place like the brothers here." Martin smiled at this statement. "All families generate strife and problems as well as love and support. I have to say David is very spirited and opinionated. He sees the future and bright horizons, whereas I seek a nice cup of cocoa and rest."

"Cocoa. Ummm" Alex mused on looking forward. "I'm totally afraid of the future. I see 18 as a closed door. I don't want to be like Ian or Yassen. Cold, driven and merciless."

"One day at a time, child. You may sit and use our services as time for personal reflection. Or you may choose to be baptised and to take communion. Its up to you." The old man then leaned forward to hold Alex's hand. "Think of the future in the short term at the moment, dinner, studying, prayers, bed. Tomorrow is another day with just our simple routine to guide you. Though you may change your mind when you meet Gerald."

"Gerald?"

"The PE instructor. Cross country runs. Forced marches. Strenuous circuit training and torment like that." Alex was sure he saw the jovial friar shudder at the thought.

"Healthy body, healthy mind" Alex mumbled.

Alex was introduced to the twenty boys, other two friars and four staff at dinner. It was a blur of hand shakes and hellos. There was no mention of his past, just that Alex was here for reflection and was now part of the family. Alex noted two of the boys snigger at this. All were aged between 14 and 19. Alex had yet to be introduced to his room mates.

Alex was down to take GCSE's in June and then progress onto A Levels. Alex had chosen Maths, Science, Double English, ITC, Spanish, French and German. Alex had coasted at High School in San Francisco. He had been labelled as most likely to kill all his class mates when Sabina told her friends that Alex was on anti-depressants and tranquilizers. The news had spread like chinese whispers and made him the school pariah. At that point, Alex had stopped talking to Sabina, despite her tearful regrets and apologies. Class at Baysdale was based on self study. David was there as class instructor but older boys helped the younger. The whole premise seemed to be self reliance. You got yourself through but you also had to know how to ask for help. In a few hours Alex had met everyone. He sat on a table with his two room mates, Gaz and Ramon.

Morning started in a rush to get dressed and quickly washed and into the main room for prayers. Each of the brothers took turns in reading, saying prayers and singing hymns. Alex stood and watched. He had half forgotten memories of full services in French and Spanish sat beside the women Ian paid to look after him.

Then Alex followed the boys into the farmyard. Gerald was shouting at the lousy maggots to run. Alex then suddenly remembered, he had met the PE instructor before. Oh Christ, Gerald had been a Sargent at Brecon, shouting out orders, telling Alex he was going to get binned. The other boys had started on their run when Gerald laid a gentle hand on Alex's shoulder. The boy was slack faced, lost in thought before he seemed to come to and said in a low, mature voice, "Hello Sargent".

"Hello Alex. Sorry No Cub or Sargent here. Its Gerald. Call me Gerry at your own peril." The retired soldier spoke gruffly but his eyes were full of concern for the lad before him.

"So run, right run." Off Alex ran in the cool grey morning with the Sargent following.


	6. Chapter 6

Yassen Gregorovich was a very patient man. It was a prerequisite to be a successful assassin. He had endured his imprisonment on Gibraltar, silent as the grave and with no interaction with his fellow prisoners. Now he had transferred to another facility in Scotland on some god forsaken rock after Little Alex's evil twin had escaped. Yassen stood and watched the waves. The water would be cold. He noted the passing of a fishing boat on its regular trips out and back. Yassen had mentally noted all the comings and goings on the island and on the seas. A large Russian boat was due past in four days. It was a slim chance of escape. Most likely he would drown or make it back to his prison wet and disheartened.

MI6 had gotten information about Scorpia operations from him, but what did it matter. Scorpia was a thing of the past now. Yassen had to find Alex to make sure Grief's abomination had not got to him, like that whining brat had spoken incessantly about. Yassen regretted not snapping the neck of Julius the first time he set eyes on him on Gibraltar. Grief's plan was absurd. That thing had the surface illusion of Alex Rider but Alex was a force of nature like his father. Unique and quite delicious. Hopefully Alex had destroyed him in his usual efficient manner.

The guards were smoking and gossiping. Why lock doors when their was no where to go. Yassen with quiet grace and skill moved out of the residential block unnoticed and made his way to the seashore. He had left a note written in terse terms of his wish for an end. Let them think he had committed suicide in the cold North Atlantic. Yassen was Russian, he had swam naked on New Years day in Estrov in his youth.

Yassen had made it to the boat, his years of training meant he'd been able to clamber aboard. He had stolen a blanket, towel, rations and clothes with none of the crew any the wiser. He disembarked the boat in Ullapool like a shadow in the night and slowly made his way to London.

Alex's home in Chelsea was occupied by strangers. Yassen stole a laptop and using surprising skill hacked into the medical records at St. Dominic's. Yassen was appalled at what he read. He had not believed Alex when he had spoken of blackmail. Here in the psychiatrist's files was proof of all Alex had said and more. Each operation had been forced on John's son. He read on. His blood ran cold. While Yassen had been idle, the boy had lived on the streets, been in a mental institution and Alex was now in a young offenders unit in North Yorkshire. Just like Alex had foretold. Once his usefulness was over he'd be shipped off and forgotten about.

Yassen knew he should be reconnecting with friends. Staying was dangerous, foolish even. He'd be safe in Paris. He had no sane reason to stay in Britain, but he made the decision to see Alex and make sure he was OK. Then he would go and reconnect with his associates. He'd have to start again as for three years he'd been as good as dead. Any kudos and his long track record of successful targets with Scorpia now meant nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

Alex had taken his GCSE's only a year late. The exams themselves had meant travelling to a stuffy school room in Guisborough with two others from the centre. Part one of getting Alex to have a normal life was complete, not that there was any respite for silly things like summer holidays at Baysdale. Oh No, it was lots of exercise, hard work, more hard work and studying. God forbid you had time to yourself. We all know the devil makes work for idle hands.

The summer project involved the boys tidying up a large bog, removing the huge amount of dead wood and replanting to create a new wildlife haven. Alex could not shake the feeling they were being watched. Alex had tried to look around but the Sargent had stuck with him, noticing his agitation. There was a large old log to be moved and sawn up. It was a team building exercise. Gerald sat on a fold out chair and had left the boys to it. By the end of the day, there were eight filthy, exhausted boys. They all resembled mud monsters, everyone of them covered in the black sticky peat from head to toe. Now, they had to walk back to the centre carrying their tools. David had taken one look at them as they arrived back, told them in no uncertain terms to clean the tools, then he hosed them down with icy cold water before they stripped off their sodden clothes and finally all been allowed in for hot showers and the usual evening routine.

Yassen had watched as the children had been worked to exhaustion point. He had stealthily followed as they had marched four kilometres over the rough moor and then he observed as the boys were hosed down like animals. He would not have believed such treatment were possible in the England John had described to him. Here was a gulag.

The assassin caught another glimpse of Alex taking out the garbage at 8:30. Another boy had followed him out. The tall dark skinned boy had Alex pinned against the bins and was groping him. Quick as a flash the assailant was pushed back and had crumpled in pain. Alex staring with angry eyes, coiled to attack before he went back inside. So Little Alex was running the gauntlet of sexual assaults. It was the same in all prisons.

Yassen went back to his tent hidden under bracken in a hollow. He had to plan a safe route for both of them out of England.

The third day of planting had gone well. Alex had again volunteered for heavy labour. Alex had explained to Gerald he like working to exhaustion point as he slept better. Not an ideal solution but Alex had less nightmares. Alex gave 110% and actually liked the routine. It was like belonging in a weird way. He could see why David had come back. Like some forgotten dream of family. Alex had stopped hoping for family after the he failed to integrate with the Pleasures. Here was not so bad. Alex had no particular friends. The only one he did not like particularly was Dean, who was an annoying git. Dean stared, no ogled Alex all the bloody time and when no one was around Dean flirted. It had escalated to Dean attempting to grope and kiss the uninterested Alex. Dean took the constant rejection as a challenge. Alex did all the days of outside labour because Dean hated it with a passion.

The day had been cool and overcast, but the lowering western sun now shone brightly. They were working late. Four boys, two friars and Gerald. It would be sandwiches and bed tonight. Alex reckoned he'd sleep through prayers. They toiled to get this final phase of the project finished so they could concentrate on getting the harvest in. First the hay and silage, then the oil seed rape, then the barley and then the wheat. Farming was pure hard work in late summer. Long hours in the tractors. Alex was one of three boys who could drive.

Finally the last tree and blackthorn were planted and their protective plastic surrounds in place. They had walked the half a kilometre back to the Landrover, when Alex realised he had left his jacket behind. Alex spoke to Gerald, and began to run back to pick up his forgotten item of uniform. Alex had joked you could bet if he left it out overnight, it would be torrential rain tomorrow. Alex would jog back to the farm, there was no point them all waiting for him.

Gerald watched the clock. Everyone else had finished their late supper and prayers were due to start. It was half past eight and Alex should have been back ten minutes ago even at the slowest jog. Martin noted the ex-army man clock watch. "Go, he's probably just dawdling. He's worked very hard in the past few days." Martin was quite proud of the quiet boy, very diligent and inspirational. Always helpful to those younger or less able. The old friar had noted the young man slowly join in the prayer sessions. Not such a lost soul, after the trials the young man had faced.

Alex was off in a world of his own, he was walking slowly now, taking in the beautiful summer evening. He smiled as he went to pick up his waterproof, when something caused him to turn around. The blond youth stood frozen. No, this was not possible. He was dead. Alex had seen him die. Alex's eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted landing with a heavy thud on the rough grass. Yassen quickly checked on the prone figure. Yassen was in two minds to leave or to take Alex. Alex had maybe an hour, probably a lot less before he was missed. Yassen had noted the retreating vehicle leave before he had approached Alex. In one swift move, he had the boy over his shoulder and he was moving towards the car he had stolen in Middlesborough.

Gerald drove the Landrover back up to the moor, hoping to give the exhausted kid a ride back. He knew something was wrong when he got all the way back to the work area and no sign of Cub. There was Alex's jacket but no Alex. Gerald looked over the moor, then he noticed a glimpse of 4x4 on the far hill on an old forestry track leading in the opposite direction from Baysdale. Alex had told him someone was watching. Shit! Shit!Shit! Gerald swore under his breath. The kid was ex-MI6. Someone had tracked him down and taken him. By 10, the police had been informed of the possible abduction. By the early morning, two SAS attached to the anti terrorist branch turned up.

Wolf was backed against the wall as his ex-Sargent ranted "You have no leads! Alex did not up and leave. I proved only one person heavily laden walked to that fence line. Alex was unconscious, therefore abducted! So don't you bastards tell me he ran off again." Gerald then backed off looking old and tired. No sleep, too worried and too much caffeine. The local farmers and two local pubs had emptied in the search for the abducted boy in the twilight. The neighbouring farmer at Hill Farm had found the abandoned Range Rover near the track to Westerdale at 10pm, North Yorks CID had impounded that vehicle. Cub was long gone. Three times Alex had foiled Scorpia and some terrorist was out for revenge. Alex had been broken by what Razim had done to him two years ago. David looked at Gerald and took in the lost look of the grizzled man eyes. The boys had filtered in for morning prayer. Everyone now prayed for Alex Rider. Prayers were needed. Faith and hope were all they had for the return of their lost brother. All leads were cold.


	8. Chapter 8

Alex moaned. His mouth was very dry. His head hurt. Dehydration, hunger and that familiar feeling of being drugged. He was lying on a bed but he could smell damp, definitely in a squat, when his eyes flew open. He sat up but then noted his hands were roped together, so were his ankles. Panic, blind panic gripped him then he noted the ghost/zombie watching him. Alex calmed himself and then looked around the room. He saw a bottle of water had been placed beside the bed. Alex clumsily opened it, drank it all still watching the man who looked just like Yassen Gregorovich before dropping the plastic bottle on the floor.

"You're dead. I saw that bastard Cray shoot you." and then in a ghost of a whisper "You died. You died?" Tears welled up in Alex's eyes, even after two years the pain of the assassin dying to save him was a raw wound to Alex.

Yassen moved his hand up and slowly unbuttoned his shirt exposing his chest and a scar, by his heart. "I did die, but I was revived, healed and imprisoned by the British Secret Service. I escaped their hospitality last month." The incline of the head was pure Yassen, so was the perfect accent-less english.

Alex stared at the rough scar on Yassen's chest, he reached forward with his bound arms. Yassen closed the space between them. Alex, touched the russian's chest. Then realised Yassen had let him. This was far too intimate. Yassen was sat next to him on a bed. Alex did not withdraw his fingers, his hand continued to touch, feeling Yassen's warm skin, the beating of his heart, noting the regular breathing. Alex looked directly into the russian's blue, blue eyes, which were much too close. He moved his bound hands to touch Yassen's face brushing fingertips on the light stubble. Alex looked at the mans lips and then he kissed the most dangerous man he knew, his uncle's murderer.

Yassen pushed Alex back down onto the bed, dominating the kiss. Three years of abstinence, longing and desire spilled over for the assassin. This kiss was hard, punishing and so so hot.

Alex had so little experience of personal contact and was overwhelmed. The few snogs with Sabina had not prepared him for this.

Yassen's fingers were pulling at Alex's clothes, pushing the t-shirt up exposing his stomach. The kiss broke and Alex watched as Yassen reached down to unbuttoned and unzipped the fly of his uniform tousers and then pulled both the trousers and briefs down to Alex's ankles in one swift motion.

Alex lay back knees splayed out, hands above his head, breathing hard. His erection hard, proud and leaking. Then Alex's brain caught up with what was happening, the blush spreading across his face and neck.

Yassen continued to observe the boy change from full arousal and passion to bashful embarrassment. The russian frowned "Are you still a virgin, Little One?"

"Yeah, still. Plenty have tried, but I stopped them." Alex spoke the truth, as he had fought off a few and rejected others. Alex with a cool calm face stated "I'm not stopping you. I want this."

Yassen was strangely pleased by the familiar determined look on Alex's face. Hard times had not broken Little Alex. Here was the same spirited individual who had caught his attention and intrigued him all those years ago. No, Alex was longer a child.

Yassen was not going to just fuck. He smiled and leaned in. Their next kiss was slow and tender. When it broke Yassen moved to untie Alex's bonds when the young man chuckled. "Untie my feet Yassen, but not my hands. You should ere on the side of caution. Take what is offered, but I am not trustworthy."

"Really little one?" Yassen took the rope from Alex's ankles and then tied Alex's bound wrists to the headboard. Then Alex kicked off the trousers that were still around his ankles. Alex watched as the older man slowly stripped. Finally revealing his long, thick uncut cock.

"What do you know about sex between men, Alex?" Yassen watched as nervous apprehension cross his companion's face.

Then Alex schooled his expression and answered cheekily "Why don't you show me?"

Yassen wanted release but he kissed and sucked Alex's neck and throat, marking his flesh as he passed down his body. The russian slowly made his way lower to the boy's straining cock. Yassen had had a few lovers but here was the first virgin to offer himself to him.

Alex gasped and bucked as his prick was enveloped by Yassens mouth and tongue. He only just managed to warn Yassen that he was coming. He watched as the russian swallowed his cum. The sight was so erotic. Alex wanted to suck Yassen off, but Yassen was in charge. Alex was turned over as Yassen told him to suck on his fingers. Alex knew enough that spit was the most basic form of lubrication, and that he would be sucking Yassen's cock if only to get it slippery enough to fuck him.

Yassen took his time working Alex's tight anus loose, before Alex eagerly took him into his mouth and Alex lay back and Yassen knelt poised to fuck the boy.

Alex had found it uncomfortable and strange when Yassen's fingers had worked his arse loose. Now Yasen's dick was pushing in. It was painful enough for Alex start to tear up when he screwed his eyes shut. He panted when he remembered to try and relax and took slow steady, if shaky breaths.

Yassen was controlled as he slowly worked deeper and deeper and finally started thrusting until he changed the angle to cause Alex to loose all control. Yassen then gave into sensation.

Alex howled as Yassen began to pound on his prostate. Alex was so hard, his release imminent again as he felt wave after wave of pleasure. Yassen touched the head of his prick lightly and he came. Yassen then came deep inside Alex.

Yassen was cleaning Alex off using the ripped up remains of Alex's t-shirt. Yassen stopped to touch the scar on Alex's chest.

"You also died?" questioned the russian.

Alex mimicked Yassen's familiar shrug "I went to Venice, trained at Malagasto. Julia Rothman betrayed me, sent me to die. She wanted revenge on Hunter for rejecting her. I was a living reminder that he had spurned her for another woman. I was caught by MI6 they sent me back to Scorpia. I stopped her plot to kill British school children. Julia died. Scorpia sent a sniper to kill me. The bullet missed my heart, just." Alex then closed his eyes. The rest of the secrets he had to tell Yassen were so much harder to form into words. Slowly Alex told Yassen of all that had happened during Yassen's imprisonment.


	9. Chapter 9

"You are worried I would hate you for your actions?" Yassen sighed. "I knew Hunter better than you give me credit for. I was aware he wanted to retire, go back to Helen and his new born son, you." The assassin gently poked Alex at this. "He had dreams and hopes for you." Yassen hugged Alex as he continued to muse, "I did not know about Ash's betrayal. I always assumed it had been MI6 who arranged the plane crash, not Scorpia. As for your actions." The russian shrugged, "I would have done the same. Julia Rothman was stupid. With the right handling you would have been better than me. An asset. Not something to throw away for such petty personal grudges. Scorpia had many heads, but it started to die when Julia Rothman assassinated Max Grendel. In fighting over power and position were only held in statis by Grendel, his death caused all the board members only to think for themselves. You were just a catalyst speeding up its end."

Alex understood that Yassen had long gotten over Hunter's death. After all the talk, he was tired. He soon fell asleep and thankfully slept the sleep of the dead, no night terrors in Yassen's arms.

Alex woke and found Yassen had left him untied and alone. The young man went to the dirty window and looked out on a strange city. The apartment was obviously disused and possibly condemned. Then Alex noticed he had no clothes or shoes. Alex explored the rooms. He heated a kettle on the camping stove to wash. He then tied the towel around his waist not to feel so exposed. Yassen had left a packet of crisp bread, jam and instant coffee as a make shift breakfast. Alex noted the labels in French, as he devoured the basic feast like a ravenous beast. Alex had drunk coffee as he did not trust the slightly brown water that came out of the tap.

Alex had fallen asleep again on the sofa by the time Yassen returned carrying two plastic bags. One of food and another much larger bag with trainers, clothes and jacket for Alex.

"So what did you do with my old clothes?"

Yasen fixed Alex with a glare "I have disposed of your uniform. Put these on"

"Are we leaving now?" questioned Alex incredulously.

"No we eat. Then leave" he russian said as a fait au compile.

"No time for a quickie?" Alex quipped.

Yassen looked at the cheeky little brat, and lust bled into his expression. Alex quick as a flash ripped off the towel leaving him naked again.

As much as last night had been slow, this was quick and fast. Alex fought for dominance and was surprised when Yassen let him have the upper hand. He sucked, licked and bobbed on the older man's dick until Yassen came. Alex tried to swallow but had to wipe the residue off his chin. Yassen laid back sated and Alex stood and played with himself, masterbating as the russian watched with amusement in his eyes.

As Alex sat back in the afterglow. The towel ruined with Alex's come. Yassen got up and pulled a pair of scissors from the bag. He then grabbed Alex's hair and began to hack at it. From shoulder length blond waves to short and brutal. Yassen looked at the finished result and shrugged. "Not better, just different".

"Why bother?" Alex asked as he ran his hand through the short mess.

"You have been on the news and the papers today in the UK." Yassen smiled "Allegedly you were placed at Baysdale as witness protection against some child traffickers you uncovered while a runaway. Such public spirit, Alex. You should be proud."

"No way, really, and I thought I spent those four months shit faced."

"Did you?" Yassen said suddenly deadly serious.

"I told you not to trust me. Hi my name is Alex and I'm a suicidal, drug addict and alcoholic." Alex stated with a fake american accent and even faker smile before blanking his expression with practiced ease. "Pills and booze helped keep the demons at bay." Alex added simply.

Yassen was concerned "MI6 did not treat you for PTSD?".

"Not until after Jack died." Alex looked much older than his 17 years with grim despair, "Too fucking late at that point. I hated myself so much for walking into that trap and letting Jack come along with me. I should have known it was a complete fuck up as soon as Blunt agreed she could go with me to Egypt. I.. I did not talk to the shrink in California. What was the use. I deserved the devastation I felt. I wanted it. God I miss Jack so much. Maybe just to cling on to the shattered remains of my delusion of a happy childhood."

"Delusion?" Yassen watched as Alex bared his soul.

"I was just a special project to Ian. Each holiday we did something new, hiking, rock cliimbing, diving, surfing, skiing, as well as pick pocketing, breaking and entering and how to drive. Like stunt driving." Alex was trying not to cry. "We lived all over Europe so I spoke French, German and Spanish like I was born and bred there, I took karate to be able to defend myself and attack. I was thirteen when I made black belt. But me personally? I bet he did not give a fuck." Alex then took a shuddering deep breath and continued to explain "I started a diary when we moved to London when I was 11. I noted our interactions in term time. 27 days was one interval between him asking me how I was and how I was doing. What type of kid keeps a diary like that. I'll tell you, a fucking desperate one. I was spent my childhood waiting for the few times my guardian noticed me. I would have done anything for Ian. Anything! I was such a fucking suck up. Everything I did after Ian died played straight into Alan Blunt's hands. God I hate that bastard." Alex placed his head in his hands and in a much quieter voice stated "In January, the cops arrested me for being drunk and disorderly. I knew MI6 would come for me. My lovely lost weekend was over. The bastards had taken my belt and shoes but my jumper was extra extra large. Just big enough to hang myself with. The Cop got an eyeful when he came through the door. Too soon, much too soon. I was still conscious. Unluckily."

Yassen knelt in front of Alex and put his fingers the young man's chin and tilted his face up to look at those troubled brown eyes. "When I joined Scorpia I was bitter, driven and angry. I had spent two years living on the streets in Russia rather than accept life at the state orphanage. Your father was not happy when I was introduced as his new apprentice. He taught me more than just how to shoot. I already knew how to kill. He taught me how to trust, accept help and to be at peace with myself. I will take you as my pupil, until you are at peace with yourself."

"Is that why you came to get me?" asked Alex in a quiet, shaky whisper.

"I went to Yorkshire to make sure you were OK. I did not like what I found there." Yassen then stroked Alex's cheek reassuringly.

"You should have seen me in February I was a complete mess. Baysdale was not so bad. I quite liked the fact you were kept so busy you had no time to dwell on stuff"

Yassen then shook his head at Alex's use of language and stood up. "Get dressed. I will heat up some stew and potatoes. There is fresh bread and bottled water."

"Will you be drugging me again?" Alex said as he pulled the bag towards him and started to look for pants.

"No, you have new papers, so do I."


	10. Chapter 10

Diane Harris had tried to keep the news of his missing best friend from Tom, who had just arrived back from Italy and had already asked several times if Alex had been in touch. She knew Tom suspected her of not passing on Alex's messages, but only because Alex was sneaky enough to leave the same messages with Jerry. For some reason both her son's liked the trouble maker. There had been a postcard from Guisborough, but Diane had burnt it. That boy had been the reason Tom had been hurt two years ago. He had disappeared after that and she was quite happy to keep it that way. Now Alex was front page news. This would upset Tom. She felt slightly guilty about the boy getting into trouble and having no one to help set him straight but if he had stayed Tom would have been a junkie as well.

She hung out the washing on the balcony and came back inside to see Tom watching BBC News 24. Aerial views of the Moors and the abandoned vehicle before it had been towed for forensic examination were being shown. The Friar at the retreat speaking of a kind, hard working boy who had put his demons behind him. And long range views of teenage boys in drab brown uniforms working on the farm. Tom looked at his mother and stated in a cold, flat voice. "Looks like those terrorists he got involved with have finally got their wish. I bet they hold a memorial service for him next week."

"You are still not going on about how Alex is a spy nonsense. That boy was a drug addict and sold himself on the streets. Its all in the Mail."

Tom looked back at the news, disgusted with his mother but it was now reporting on the up and coming football season. Tom had a try out for Brentford in three days. An icy hand closed around Tom's heart. It should have been Alex and Tom on the football team like in their day dreams many years ago. Alex was likely dead or worse. "I'm going to the gym' was all Tom said as he left.

Tom went to the local phone box, not caring it was early in the morning in California. Edward Pleasure answered and Tom began to rant "Are you happy? Alex told me you all stopped trying to get through to him. I talked to him nearly every week. He told me all about how loosing Jack was devastating and how fucking awful school was over there. Last I heard you threatened to send him back to the bastards at the bank for smoking a bit of dope" At this point Edward tried to interrupt and say it was more than smoking a few joints. Alex had turned up drunk for their planned visit to Edward's sister and her family, but Tom cut him off. "It was a cry for help you schmuck. You're to blame for all this. I fucking hate you and tell Sabina she's a grade A bitch as well." At that Tom slammed down the headset.

James Sprintz sat in the dining room in the large opulent home he shared with his father, smoking, not caring if his father caught him. His copy of the Times had not been opened. James just stared at the photograph on the front page. There was a smiling Alex Rider stood wearing a municipal brown uniform and with two laughing friars. Three years ago, Dieter Sprintz had briefly considered Baysdale for his wayward son but had settled on an elite academy in France which promised results in three months. James pondered if three maybe four years with the friars doing hard manual work might have been a better idea. James still had nightmares about his imprisonment. It was one of the reasons his father gave for not keeping in contact with Alex. A nice quiet life in Germany, going to the local public school had sorted James out. His mother even came to stay here. His father worked less, learning to delegate. James flicked ash on his organic breakfast. He was so tempted to break into his father's office and get off his head on Dieter's 40 year old cognac. His musing was disturbed by his father stoping dead by the door.

"Why are you smoking inside" the banker then dramatically looked at his Omega Precision time piece and visibly bristled "You are meant to be playing tennis at the Schroeder's"

"I cancelled. Something came up." James then lifted the paper to show his father the headline.

_Is Alex Dead?_

_Mystery of North Yorkshire abduction of troubled teenager from Church Retreat._

"It says 'Triad involvement suspected'." James watched a flicker of guilt cross his father's face. James put the paper down and sighed, " I gave you a card to send to Alex in February. Did you send it? You told me you had contacted his guardians in California and he was happy and settled. Doing well in school. Funny in September last year he left a hotel in central London, where he was staying on holiday and disappeared. The press are speculating that Alex was abducted then and forced to take drugs and then into prostitution by the triads. He was hospitalised in February. Alex was at Baysdale for rest and recuperation after detox and eight weeks in a secure unit. So why lie, Dieter. All you had to tell me was that Alex was a head case. Not a great leap from dysfunctional, depressed, unhappy after Jack, his guardian died in mysterious circumstances in Egypt."

James then stood up and crossed the room to look directly in his father's eyes. "I have a confession to make. I last spoke to Alex last September, just before his holiday to London. He said he was dreading it. He hated San Francisco but he hated London more. Too many reminders he said. He told me he was drinking, smoking dope, taking pills. He asked my advice on how to stop. I told him to cause a family intervention, get caught. Only it did not work out so well. Alex left. Sixteen and totally alone, no back up. I wish he called me again. You'd have paid for detox and rehab, wouldn't you. We'd both be dead if not for him. Or don't you care."

James wanted his father to lie and say everything would be alright for Alex, they'd get him back. The young german knew his father had thought Alex was out of control. The silence in the room was now oppressive. Finally James stated completely defeated "I'm going to bed."

Sabina was in her bedroom crying. Maggie was trying her best to comfort her distressed daughter. Edward Pleasure was at a loose end. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and if Edward could go back in time he would have cancelled his visit to his sister's, sobered Alex up and got him into rehab or sectioned. Edward had believed the psychiatric reports that Alex was handling his grief and PTSD well and any problems were due to not settling in at High School. Maggie had suggested the trip to England and possibly changing Alex's school to a Military Academy. His handling of Alex had possibly been the worst thing he could have done. He regretted his angry words so much.

Edward has originally felt like a burden had been lifted when Alex disappeared and they had enjoyed the trip to Oxford. Only Maggie had been worried and had called the short list of three people who Alex called friends and had bothered to keep in contact with. All three were living abroad. Edward had brushed off Alex's disquiet at returning to London and had dismissed it as moaning. Looking back he knew things were very wrong within two weeks of Alex starting High School. He had been slowly becoming more relaxed and part of the family. Alex had suddenly become secretive, non communicative and terse. Maggie had the best relationship with Alex, but he even stopped talking to her, disappearing for days on end. Edward had thought Alex was hanging out with friends, but it then turned out he had got a job at the fish-market working nights. It had been the first of a series of one sided arguments. Edward had thought Alex had decided to drop out of school. It was after Alex left and they were putting Alex's belongings in storage they had found out the boy had signed up for a distance learning high school course.

Smithers studied the intel on screen about Alex Rider's disappearance. Derek Smithers had transferred to Interpol in 2002 working attached to their Anti-terrorism unit in Lyon. Alex's Disappearance had shown up as an alert across all member countries. Smithers had the alert poster pinned on his action board. A few of his colleagues queried this, as this was technical support not investigations; but then noticed the array of postcards from Alex also pinned to the board. He had told them of working with his uncle Ian in London and getting close to the the boy in the eighteen months after his death. He had been pleasantly surprised by the emails and postcards Alex had sent. He had lampooned his class mates, Edwards attempts at parenting and various misadventures he'd had in California. The contact had continued when Alex had been on the streets in London, just to let him know Alex was surviving. The last communication was from Baysdale. A proper letter with photographs. Alex had seemed calmer, and definitely in a better place. Now this.


	11. Chapter 11

Alex had not known what to expect in Paris but being bored to tears was not it. He was sat in the back room of a club, the music was throbbing through the walls all alone, as Yassen was in the office chatting with his friends. Occasionally he saw a member of staff, but they ignored him. Alex had read and reread his new identity papers several times. Alexis Du Jardin born Paris 5th April 1984, so he was now twenty. He had a driving licence, ID card and french passport, which must have cost Yassen a pretty penny. Alex was not impressed with the clothes Yassen had bought him. He was dressed in designer knock offs and looked like a wannabe thug.

Yassen was after work. A few jobs in Paris and then the Russian, sorry Jules Marchet, would reconnect with some more international associates for more higher paid work. Only the most lucky could avoid some time spent in prison. Yassen had to let his potential clients know he was available and back in the game. The assassin had money, property and equipment stored in stashes in several countries. He would only use these if it was absolutely necessary. Better to use your skills and what you had to hand to survive.

Alex watched and took in all the details. One of the club workers was obviously supplying drugs. Alex was nervous, it was probably a test to see if he would try and blag a sample. Alex had been clean for six months, but it was ohh so tempting to just help himself to the badly hidden stash. Then Alex's attention was returned to the opening office door and the occupants laughing and speaking Russian loudly. Alex guessed the first order in his apprenticeship would be to learn to speak that language.

The pair were silent as Yassen drove yet another car to a grim street. In the dark, they trudged up five flights of stairs to an even grimmer apartment. Two sets of keys were tossed on the filthy kitchen counter by Yassen and they both went through to a bedroom which at least had new bedlinen still in plastic on top of the bed. Alex made up the bed and Yassen double checked everything.

Alex, after less than three hours sleep, was wide awake. Yassen mumbled at Alex in french to come back to bed. That was not going to happen, after several mixed up days, Alex was back into his routine. The young man did a careful circuit of his temporary home. Four basic dirty rooms. There were utensils in the kitchen, but no food and no cleaning products. Alex had no euros for breakfast. Alex could not even shower as there were no toiletries and Alex had only the clothes Yassen had bought him two days ago.

By seven Alex went out and did a reccie of the neighbourhood, it was about two kilometres from central Paris. Alex surmised he had to use his own skills to get supplies. By 10, Alex was back in the apartment carrying five large bags and a mop and bucket. Even before 9 he had stolen enough cash from three stupid tourists to get breakfast, go to the barbers and buy two sets of new clothes. Then finally at the local convenience store for everything else.

First he cleaned the kitchen. Then the bathroom. He had then started cooking for an evening meal. He was finishing moping the living room and small hall when Yassen woke up.

"You have been busy" was all the Yassen said.

Alex lit the stove and put on coffee for his lord and master. He place two croissants on a plate . The jam was already on the table. The Alex left Yassen to his late breakfast, as the bedroom got a surface clean.

Alex returned to see Yassen tasting the casserole Alex had left cooking. "Thats for dinner."

"It tastes good." Yassen moved forward and enveloped Alex in a hug, kissing him sloppily "You make a very good wife."

Alex smiled at the pun, "I'm a dirty little street urchin and I'm going for a shower. You are welcome to join me."

Alex had bought new towels to accompany the toiletries. The shower was warm, wet and entertaining as Alex was pressed against the wall and fucked.

Alex told Yassen of his morning adventures. He did not tell him that he had bought and read the Guardian. A small piece speculating that Alex was already dead and a bigger discussion on the problems of child prostitution, runaways and trafficking of children. The reporter had gone to his old school and got the background on Alex's descent into drugs after the death of his beloved uncle. The Pleasure's weren't named but his running away from his adoptive parents was. Great, every one at Brookland would now peg him as an addict and rent boy. That really took the biscuit.

Yassen was off doing something for Dima. Probably involving murder and mayhem. Alex was stood in the middle of a bit of forest as Dima had wanted to test him out. Alex knew they all made fun of him as they spoke in russian. Stupid was the one word Alex knew. Yassen said it enough. That and the russian for headcase. Alex was just some stupid pretty western kid who had caught Yassen's eye. Dima came and spoke to him. "You look like Hunter, Cossack's old partner."

"You knew Hunter?" Alex tried not to act shocked. So Yassen was introducing him to his father's old friends as well.

"I met him twice, here in Paris." Dima said nonchalantly, looking at Alex closely.

Alex shrugged "Hunter was my father."

Dima studied the boy, yes he was like his father. "Oh. Can you shoot?"

"I'm OK I guess?" Alex folded his arms and looked away.

"Did Yassen teach you?" Dima noted a sad smile on the boy's face before he answered as if remembering a half forgotten joke.

"No I learned on Malagasto when I was 14."

Malagasto. Here was a little viper pretending to be a toy. "Right. Instinctual shooting?"

"I got the gist of it. Might be a bit rusty."

Alex shot targets with various guns. Then he spared with Pasha and Vlad who both claimed in heavily accented French to be former Spetznaz. Bare fists then with knives.

The training ended with Pasha saying "Not just a pretty boy" to which Alex sneered. He guessed he might be offered some work now.


	12. Chapter 12

Yassen had returned with Dima's misplaced property with the satisfaction that those who had tried to get one past him were dead.

"Don't worry Dima. It looked like dangerous driving on their part." Yassen assured his friend.

"You always were very good at arranging accidents" Dima shook his head.

Yassen chuckled at this.

Dima looked at his friend and with mirth colouring his voice "You did not tell me your little fuck toy was Hunter's son. He shoots just like him. Same stance and determination. I can see your attraction."

"Dima. John was so straight he squeaked when he walked. He worshiped his Helen. To think his son is open and free with his favours."

The mafia boss pulled out a bottle of vodka and interrupted "Ahh Alex likes girls and boys."

"Like you Dima. just like you." Yassen took the offered glass of russian alcohol and downed it in one.

Yassen's glass was refilled before they both drank. "Does the little minx make you jealous?"

"No, Alex only has eyes for me at the moment. His last love, Sabina pulled his heart out and ripped it to shreds. Any woman would have to be special to catch his attention after her. That little girl was petty and narrow minded." Yassen thinking back to his last job for Scorpia thought 'I really should have chopped off her fingers'.

"He let a few interesting facts out today. No details. Trained at Malagasto at 14. Even younger than us." At which Dima raised a dramatic eyebrow.

"All my fault I'm afraid, I told him to go. Thinking he'd finish school first but ohh no. Straight away he left home to walk straight into the arms that bitch Julia Rothman. I'd hoped he'd train under Zeljan or Levi, but no. She tried to kill him."

"That little boy brought down Rothman and her personal thug Niles?

"Yes." Yassen said simply.

"He's that fucking teenager MI6 were using. He could be reporting to them right now!" Dima had stood up about to call Pasha.

Yassen placed his hand on Dima's to stop him making the phone call "Calm yourself Dimitri. They blackmailed him to work for them. He has nothing left in England. No ties, no real friends. So he is finally free. I want him to work for himself and decide what to do. He is a talented marksman. Very gifted in operations and he survived being tortured by Razim the Iraqi Head of Interrogations."

Dima Stevankov looked at his friend and then recalled Alex's slightly off behaviour, so unlike any teenager Dima knew. "That explains a lot."

"Doesn't it. If Alex had not already killed that cunt I would have invented new tortures just for him."

"Says the best pupil Dr. Three ever had." Dima remembered the best thing he learned at Malagasto was to keep those who were the most dangerous as friends. Yassen was certainly that. Dima would always offer him work, information and hospitality. Becoming an enemy of Yassen Gregorovich was a short trip to an open grave.

"So what is Alex up to?" Yassen asked as he reached over to fill both their glasses.

"Vlad and he are collecting some debts from immigrants who own me rent." Yassen laughed and then so did Dima. Vlad would likely send the kid in, just to see Alex fight or threaten at each establishment. Yassen knew that the younger Russian thug would try all threats and force. Alex would be polite and apologetic and smile his cold hard smile like a shark. The most dangerous are quiet, calm and deadly.

Alex was dropped off at the apartment at 3am. Vlad had been impressed. Most of what had been owed had been collected. Alex had been threatened bodily harm twice. His sparkling eyes, dazzling smile and firm grip on the offenders throats had worked wonders in getting their attention. Alex had learned on his little Venetian holiday just how to intimidate, how to apply pressure and the best ways of inflicting pain with minimum effort. Alex's favourite was the use of pressure points. All students of the infamous Dr. Three got to experience those first hand.

Yassen woke as soon as Alex started to pick the apartment's lock. Yassen had the gun trained on the door as Alex sneaked in trying to be quiet. The russian watched as Alex removed his shoes and lit a cigarette.

"You should not smoke." Yassen said quietly in french, putting his gun back in its holster by the bed.

Alex dramatically blew smoke rings and then in russian said "Six hours in Vlad's company I either smoke or killed the bastard".

"You wish to speak russian?" Yassen questioned.

Alex continued in russian "I want to know what insulting things those shits are calling me, my little cock sucker" Alex smiled and switched back to french "As you can see I have learned all the swear words first".

Then Yassen noted the book on Basic Russian Alex must have bought and read on the sofa next to the boy. The boy had a phenomenal capacity to learn. "When working you will only speak russian with me. Listen to how Dima, Pasha and Vlad speak. Dima is from Odessa, Pasha Moscow, Vlad from Irkutsk. You must notice the differences."

"Where do you hale from, Yashka?" Alex asked seductively, the sinuous moves of his body not unnoticed by the assassin watching the boy.

Yassen looked surprised by the use of the diminutive. Twice Alex had called him by pet names tonight. "A small town near Smolensk, Sasha. I left at the age of fourteen. I have not been back."

Alex then stood up and looked directly at Yassan and pouted "Do I need to be punished for smoking indoors?".

"Come to bed. I will punish you after I have slept. I have worked hard over the past two days. I need my rest my little vixen".


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning Yassen caught Alex's arm as he tried to get out of bed at 6am. "Sleep. You belong to me today. This is part of your punishment."

Alex had fallen back to sleep that morning encircled in his lover's arms. He had woken to find Yassen watching him.

Yassen breaks the silence with "You must have been a beautiful child."

Alex smiled "You met me when I was a child."

"You were nearly a man, you had lost your innocence already."

"Disillusionment, blackmail and betrayal do that." Alex was curious about Yassen, what had happened to him to choose the streets. "Were you a beautiful child?"

"I was an angel, beloved and adored." Yassen had told very few people of the tragedy that befell him at the age of fourteen. "Everything changed in 1981, at time when Russia was ruled by hard line communists, America was the enemy. My parents worked to keep the motherland safe. They were biochemists in a research lab, both party members, intelligentsia. I was a pampered little prince, I worked hard in school, enjoyed ballet classes and was a group leader in the Young Pioneers. Destined to be a model citizen like my mother and father. 15th July of that year, I was at Pioneer Camp in Gdov when State Security came for me and two others. We were held in a police station like criminals. I overheard one of the policemen say there had been an accident, Estrov was a ghost town with a 25km exclusion zone. There had been an explosion. The central committee had ordered the whole town and its population erased, denied, there was no inquiry, no investigations. We three orphans were to be sent to the orphanage in Gorky, to be forgotten about. We all decided to leave, Vladimir, Olga and I. I was the oldest. We were lucky, our train changed in Moscow, we ran off into the crowds. Vladimir hated life on the streets and went to the police after three days. I learned later he had been sent to Siberia, to a prison camp for twenty years as a western sympathizer, a traitor. He survived three. Olga was lucky, an old woman took her in, changed her name, she found a new family and happiness. I survived on my own. I became a thief, a cock sucker and a did everything and anything. I had a goal. I wanted to leave Russia. Leave the country that wanted me to forget my home, erase my family and deny my happy childhood."

"Thats so horrific."

"Yes Little Alex, we were both pawns of our governments. It is better to exist beyond society. We are outlaws, outcasts, the forgotten. We make our own destinies and happiness. Even if it is snatched between each meal, job and lover."

Alex got up and knelt before the seated assassin. He offered up his hands in supplication. "I'm yours today, beloved Yashka."

"You are to be punished." There was a feral smile on Yassen's face. There and then Yassen produced two long strips of plastic, cable ties, which secured Alex's wrists and lower arms behind his back. "First breakfast". Yassen left the bedroom and brought in bowls of hot thick, strong black coffee, sweet almond croissants and brioche rolls.

After Alex had eaten and drunk his fill, all supplied by Yassen. They both went to the bathroom. Alex acquiesced as Yassen held his cock when he pissed, and then as the assassin washed him and then used lubrication to clean his anus. Alex had never had an enema before. Yassen explained if he had toys he would place a butt plug in Alex and a cock ring to hold off Alex's release. Yassen was open with his wishes and desires and explained he liked to be in control, but it was Alex's gift to give. His obedience but also his consent. Alex had to tell Yassen if he went to far, or if Alex was afraid, disturbed or uncomfortable. The word 'red' was to be used and Yassen would stop.

Yassen blind folded his young lover. Led him to the bed and started a long, long session of sensual and actual torture.

Alex's ankles were tied to the edges of the bed and Alex learned the intimacy of lovers. Soft touches, licks, bites and sucking all over Alex's body, making him writhe and moan. There were no direct touches to his arousal, just everywhere else. The touches became firmer. Pressure on areas became bruising. Alex gasped and bit his lips to stifle screams, pulling on his restraints. Yassen progressed to inflicting agony. No longer were Alex's screams held back. Pressure points were pressed and the agony bloomed as white hot stabs and lingering flowers of stinging pins and needles. Finally, Yassen kissed on the areas of bruising and numbness, tasting the tears on his supplicant's face, carefully wiping the snot and spit away with soft tissues. Alex's head, face neck, collarbones, ribs, hips, legs and feet were throbbing.

"You did not stop me?" Yassen sounded concerned and puzzled.

"I asked to be punished. I am yours." rasped Alex.

"Yes you are."

Alex's ankles were released, he was sat up and a bottle was pressed to his lips, cool refreshing water quenched his sore, hoarse throat. Then Alex was rolled onto his stomach and his ankles were retied. Alex expected the torture to continue but Yassen massaged Alex's buttocks, spreading the cheeks before leaning over, his breath ghosting on Alex's skin raising goose bumps. Yassen licked along the crease of Alex's arse, before the russian began to fuck his anus with his tongue.

Alex had been prepared hours previously, his anus was still slick but tight as Yassen pushed his cock in. This was brutal fucking, the russian using Alex's hole. Punishing thrusts directly on Alex's prostate. Alex came untouched as Yassen's seed flooded his bruised and sore anal cavity. As Yassen withdrew his cock and his tongue returned to Alex's anus, licking and sucking up the his own release. Alex sobbed from this further stimulation. Yassen the released his bonds and hugged Alex, kissing him passionately. Alex tasting the musky and salty tang of Yassen and Alex mixed. Alex kissed just as hard back. This was belonging completely. Alex came down from his high of endorphins with a crash and slept.

The sky was dark when Alex awoke. Yassen was awake beside him. Alex kissed him like he had not seen him in a million years. Alex covered the russian's face and neck in desperate kisses, before slowing to lick and suck; going lower to Yassen's nipples. His ministrations had the desired affect, Yassen was bone hard. Alex reached the bed side table and grabbed the lubricant, before reaching behind himself and loosening himself up. Yassen remained lying on the bed watching Alex prepare himself. Then Alex impaled himself on the russian's magnificent cock, hissing at the sting and lingering soreness from earlier. Alex set the pace. Slow long strokes up and down. Alex was vocal in his pleasure but became quiet as his orgasm built. A loud groan accompanied Alex's hot seed spurting forward over Yassen. Alex's movements continued until Yassen was bucking upward finally coming with a cry.


	14. Chapter 14

Alex woke early. He was stiff as a board and sore all over. Alex took two attempts to stand and was shocked when Yassen stood to help him to the bathroom. Hot water helped ease the stiff muscles and joints. Alex noted even his bones hurt. Afterwards Alex lay on the bed. Yassen returned to the room with the bottle of olive oil Alex had bought for cooking. Yassen then gave Alex a massage which was deep and probing, lossening tight muscles and sore joints. The russian expertly probed all Alex's aches and pains.

At some point the massage went from deep to gentle and Alex fell asleep.

Alex woke to Dima and Yassen talking. He caught the occasional word but only actually got up because he needed a piss. Alex did not bother with clothes and walked through to the bathroom giving both men an eyeful.

"Yassen what did you do to that boy?" asked Dima. "He is walking like he is an old man."

Yassen shrugged "He did not use the safe word. No once. I would have broken most people by what I did to Alex yesterday. He woke after only a few hours rest and instigated sex again."

"That boy must have it bad for you." Dima said shaking his head. The mob boss knew precisely what kind of pain Alex had been subjected to.

"I told him about why I left Russia." Yassen stated simply staring out of the window at the grey sky and the apartment buildings opposite.

"Oh Yassen. You are both so alike." Dima thought his friend for the first time looked his age. "You should take a holiday. I'm afraid I sold your boat and your villa in NIce. MI6 were trying to impound your assets, few that they are, but I had the papers of ownership. I put the money in your account. Even if MI6 knew about it, the swiss would never hand over your money."

"They did not enquire about my several bank accounts. They wanted operational details, Scorpia members and training information. They got all they wanted after three months. I was then just detained." Yassen had told Dima of his imprisonment. Despite the torture and interrogation, Yassen had only told the SIS interrogators as little as possible. He let them think he was a mere tool for Scorpia. Yassen had worked for many. Scorpia had been a major client, but not his only one. He had been paid well for his work.

"I have a lodge near Geneva. Both of you go for a rest. I will put out feelers for more interesting work for you and your boy."

Yassen smiled. "I am out of shape. The mountain air will spur me on to work out. I will practice my aim and update my skills. I might get sloppy and then I and Little Alex would be dead."

"Little Alex can look after himself." Dima was in no doubt about that fact.

"Yes he can." Yasen's smile broadened as he watched Alex return to the bedroom.

Dima had left. Yassen was lost in thought as he watched Alex cook lunch. Alex had accepted him even though he was a controlling sadist. Yassen knew Alex was not so much of a head-case to enjoy pain, he just accepted it as a fact of life. Pain and Pleasure. Yassen knew Alex did not expect any happiness to last. They were here and now. Yassen would fight to make it last as long as possible and he would bring hell on earth to anyone who hurt his Little One.

Alex had been surprised when Yassen announced a trip to Switzerland, even more by the fact the older man allowed him to drive.

Yassen studied how watchful and observing Alex was, both of surroundings and other drivers and obstacles. The easy way Alex maneuvered through the traffic, his gear changes fluid. Like everything else that Ian had taught Alex, it had been done with precision and expertise. The drive to Beaune was uneventful. They stopped at the Carrefore and Alex went to buy groceries. Yassen had offered Alex money, but Alex just shrugged. He'd been bored the three days ago and had gone pick pocketing again. Easy pickings on the left back. He bought long life part baked bread, UHT milk, bottled water and tinned food as he did not know precisely where they were going. Yassen had been cryptic but suggested shopping for five to seven days including emergency rations incase they went camping.

Another two hours and they were driving north-west from Geneva. Yassen had swapped to drive just before the Swiss border. It was dusk, but Yassen knew the way. It was dark when they arrived at an isolated chocolate box chalet. Yassen punched in a ten digit code and they swept into the spacious, comfortable house with all mod cons.

Alex stretched and went in search of a shower. A maid must have been in because there were towels and a freshly made bed in the guest room. Alex stripped off as Yassen did his usual perimeter search. Alex was asleep naked on the bed when Yassen wandered in. He kissed the sleeping figure before going for a long shower. Alex woke at six to see Yassen dressed and waiting for him. "Get dressed we are going hunting."

"Hunting?" queried Alex as he pulled on his clothes.

"Yes city boy. We wait and watch, then we will run and chase. This is how your father taught me. I will teach you."

"My dad hunted?"

Yassen shook his head with a knowing sad smile on his face, "Your father and Ian were born and brought up on a smallholding in the Derbyshire Dales. Their mother left when Ian was a baby. John and Ian ran wild. Your father poached as soon as he could run. Rabbits, deer, fish, before that he shot rats in the barn with a sling shot. Ian was much younger, their father remarried when Ian was eight, John sixteen. John disliked his step mother. He left and joined the army."

Alex remained quiet as they trekked into the misty forest. Yassen had handed Alex a single shot rifle, Yassen carried one the same. Alex had five bullets, all Yassen had said Alex had to make them count. Be sure of your shot.

They climbed and came to a scarp over looking a glade. The air was clear and fresh. The only sounds were the wind in the trees, insects and birds. Alex felt at peace, trying to be as stealthy as possible to blend into the forest. It was half ten when Alex saw his first deer. He tracked and Yassen followed. Time passed until Alex tracked round, down wind and Alex loaded his rifle. His aim true, Yassen clapped him on the back. "300 yards, through the head. A good clean shot."

Alex was then handed a wicked looking knife. Alex did as Yassen instructed to prepare the carcass. Finally the buck was hoisted on Alex's shoulders as Yassen carried both rifles and they made their way back to the house. The butchered deer was placed in the large freezer as a present for Dima. Both of them had showered and their clothes were in the washing machine. Yassen then heated up tins of chicken casserole, baby potatoes and carrots. Yassen approved of the case of wine Alex had bought. It had been a bargain, 12 bottles for the price of two of the same wine in England. Alex drank a small glass and Yassen drank the rest of the bottle, seemingly unaffected by the alcohol.

Alex was still uncommonly quiet as they lay in bed. It was as if the russian was waiting for something. Alex looked at the wood ceiling and exhaled loudly. "Ian told me next to nothing about John. No childhood recollections, no bonding, just bare facts, nothing more. I was just an obligation." Silence then again reigned. "You said John had hopes for me. Am I the son he would have hoped for? Fucked up bent junkie." Alex's voice had broken with the last statement.

"John found it in his heart to accept and befriend a broken, homosexual, psychopathic teenager, so why not you. What John would not have accepted was how Ian and his colleagues at MI6 used you. John should have fathered a whole brood, he would have been a fantastic father, very hands on. You should have grown up with several little brothers and sisters, running wild in rural France."

Alex wiped his eyes and hugged Yassen. Alex laughed as Yassen's hand went south to cup his balls. Umm from upset to fucking hard. Alex guessed maybe in one aspect he was a normal teenage boy.


	15. Chapter 15

The next few days were spent exercising, Yassen testing Alex, which turned out to be a series of games of hid and seek. By the third day Alex actually could track Yassen. The man was brilliant at sneaking and climbing. Unafraid of even the highest vantage point or the smallest. It was like being back at Malagasto.

Alex was shown a world made up of positives and possibilities. Most situations could be turned to your advantage, even under interrogation, you were still in control. Judge what your captors wanted and give them it mixed in with bullshit. That made then have to work harder. It was a game to be played. So was escape. Yassen had waited until the guards in Scotland had grown complacent. Yassen was passive, not perceived as a particular threat. Alex could not understand that. The way Yassen moved, watched and appraised even watching Alex, the man oozed pure danger. Yassen was a predator. Alex was in no doubt the russian would kill him as soon as look at him if he thought he was a threat. Alex had actually dreamed of Yassen slowly strangling him as they fucked, part nightmare, part wet dream. It was strangely comforting to give yourself over completely to another.

By the fifth day they trekked miles to a mountain water lake. Deep, cold and pure. Swimming and diving, the both of them laughing like children. They fished using simple hand lines, cooked their catch as a picnic and made love on the forrest floor.

Alex and Yassen ran the entire 10 kilometres back to the cabin, neither stumbled or lost their footing. They jumped over obstacles with the grace of the deer they had hunted, wild and free. Alex kissed Yassen passionately as they stopped on the tarmaced drive. Tomorrow they would drive back to Paris.

Alex ran the bath, which was a massive roll topped double ended tub big enough for two. The scented bath-wash added to the luxury. Alex even found some scented candles. Yassen arrived in the room to see Alex relaxed in the tub and humming to himself. Yassen watched, Alex was relaxed and happy. Yassen then admitted to himself these feelings were what he felt too. Years alone and now he had met a kindred spirit. Life should have been kinder to John Rider's boy. Alex was a survivor. Yassen had always been unusual in the fact he had friends, not many. Dima, in Paris, Josef in the Lebanon and Inago in Cuba. Each friendship built slowly. Each man had been saved by Yassen and they owed him. Yassen cultivated their good graces and visited when he could. John had been the same, small acts of kindness and generosity had made him friends in a business you had no right having any except where you paid for them.

Yassen smiled and pulled off his clothes. Alex only woke from his day dream when the water was disturbed. It was hot. "What were you musing about then?"

"I miss banyas. Russian saunas. You spend hours there, Eating, drinking, playing chess." Yassen sighed as the hot water soothed his knees. He had not run, nor exercised enough during his captivity. Returning to fitness was hard. He had enjoyed having a companion. Yassen did not normally reminisce, but this came with happiness. Hard times only made Yassen concentrate on changing his fortunes not loosing himself in the past or what might have been. This ability alone had been the making of him.

Yassen looked at the relaxed boy and his cock stirred. How fuckable was young Alex, totally and utterly delectable.

Alex opened his eyes and noted Yassen's lustful stare. "Do you want to fuck my mouth or my arse?"

"Umm, maybe something different." Yassen reached to his own arse and began fingering himself. "Fuck me in this sinfully hot bath. I do not bottom often so enjoy it, Little Alex."

Alex watched as digits played and twisted in and out of Yassen. The sight of this alone could make him come. Alex moved forward as Yassen lifted his legs. Alex slowly pushed into Yassen. Tight and hot, it took all his control not to come straight away. Slowly he began to thrust angling to hit the sweet spot deep inside which made sex so fantastic. Yassen moaned and began to writh, moving to match Alex's thrusts. Alex watched Yassen become undone. This was pleasure Alex was giving to him. Alex was determined to make Yassen come before himself. Long, hard thrusts and Alex took Yassen's erection and began to match the same pace as he wanked the Russian off. Yassen gave in to bliss and through his head bak and he came. Alex could not stop coming himself as Yassen's anal channel tightened around his cock.

Alex pulled out and lay back in the bath. "Fuck that was amazing"

A nod of agreement was all Yassen could manage.


	16. Chapter 16

Dima called in the early morning. A change of plan. Yassen had a job. He was to meet a contact in Geneva.

Rogan had met and used Cossack before and wished for his particular expertise for a 'few accidents' again. Rogan was also an assassin, specializing in search and destroy missions for Mossad. An assassin with deep cover, whose only contact was with a handler and no direct associations with Mossad or Israel. He had lived and worked around Europe and the middle east since the 1980's. A job against a group listed as enemies of Israel had been sent to him. The execution of a large number of foreign nationals on their home soil meant the operation had to be achieved with no publicity, preferably with no sign of a nefarious or illegal intent. Especially, anyone suspecting the death order from Tel Aviv.

Alex watched the cafe from a vantage point in the park, he was practicing goals and ball handling, wearing the strip of the Real Madrid. All Alex could think was thank god Yassen had not bought a Man U football strip, Alex shuddered at the thought. Alex noted the dark haired man in a suit sitting and ordering water. Yassen arrived sat down at the same table and ordered coffee.

Rogan congratulated Cossack on his return from the dead. Yassen inclined his head, he was there for business not small talk. The russian was handed a file containing several newspaper pieces. A group of German Neo Nazi's had burned down three synagogues in south-eastern Germany. Their last outrage had been the arson of a Berlin town house and murder of a prominent Jewish family, who had just been granted permission to emigrate to Israel. The husband had been a doctor, the wife a teacher and three children. Yassen read the police reports. Rogan then spoke "This outrage had met with outward condemnation but little actual results from the German Federal Police. The perpetrators are to be brought to 'justice' ". By this Rogan meant divine justice. The russian assassin would be the instrument of God.

Only then did Yassen speak. "I do not like those who make war on children. I think I shall enjoy this assignment."

"Will you work alone?" Rogan asked. A Mossad agent had already failed to infiltrate the group and the information they had gathered was patchy at best.

"No I have an associate, former Scorpia as well. He shares my dislike of those who harm children. I might have to reign him in but these pigs will be punished adequately. Do you want information as well? Someone will be funding and protecting these fascists."

"You will be paid to take out the entire organisation with no blow back for us. Make it look like Mafia or organised crime, we don't care. We will pay more if it looks like an accident." Rogan stated.

Yassen looked at the file and smiled. "My usual fee per body + 25% if viewed as an accident"

"Of course. Good hunting, Cossack."

The motel was cheap and dingy on the outskirts of Dresden. Yassen was gathering information. He had disappeared hours ago. Alex read magazines and books, as TV just did not interest him anymore. Alex was surprised when at 8pm Yassen came in. A bag was thrown at Alex. "Wash, get dressed, we are going to a club."

Alex showered then pulled the clothes out. Black satin jeans and a mesh shirt. Items of makeup also fell out and dog collar. Alex's hair did not need styling as it was still very short. Alex put on the foundation, eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss without a comment. Alex pulled his boots on and looked at the stranger in the mirror. He practiced walking with a wiggle, camping it up for Yassen who was watching amused on the bed. Alex had never thought about acting or dressing effeminately even though he was quite happy being the submissive in the relationship with Yassen, but he would agree he did look good. "So am I more fuckable now?" Alex smiled.

"I will fuck you later, maybe while we are at the club. I am there to find a contact. One that is a voyeur. So if I ask you to suck me off or strip you will do so straight away."

"Yes Yassen. Not like I need an excuse to put my mouth around that lovely cock of yours."

The club was like nothing Alex had experienced before. Men, boys and transvestites talking, kissing, dancing and on the edges of the room, fucking. Yassen called him kitten as he handed Alex a lurid cocktail. Alex sipped it and wished he hadn't. Luckily Yassen pulled him onto the dance floor and proceeded to use the experience to grope and kiss Alex until he was completely aroused. Something you could not hide in tight satin jeans. Yasen whispered in Alex's ear "Look at you, such a slut. Come I have spotted the man I want to see."

Alex followed Yassen's gaze and noticed the thin, dark haired man sat on his own watching the room. Yassen pulled Alex to the wall beside the man. Alex knelt down and unzipped Yassen's jeans releasing his wonderful cock. Alex enthusiastically kissed, licked and sucked the cock in his mouth all under the watchful gaze of the stranger.

Yassen gave a slight incline of his head to the man watching as Alex stood back up after Yassen's orgasm. The man then spoke "Your submissive is very delightful. Did you buy him as a virgin?"

"Yes. I've had him for three weeks. He is enchanting." At this Yassen looked at Alex, who stood with eyes down cast, arms with palms facing outwards by his sides, giving the voyeur a good view of himself.

The man then stood up to examine Alex closely. He had a strange look in his eyes as he gently took hold of Alex's left hand and pushed the sleeve of the mesh shift up Alex's arm exposing the rings and blotches of bruising."Such pretty marks. Does he scream well?"

"I've never had a lover like him. I push him and he accepts everything." Yassen stated with a fond smile.

The German then lightly touched Alex's straining erection, before looking at Yassen. "I would love you both to join me at my apartment. There I will enjoy watching you together and then we will discuss business."

The German walked three streets west of the nightclub until they came to a semi derelict warehouse. The basement was converted into a large open space apartment cum work space.

The bed was by the far wall with a chair facing it. Alex entered behind Yassen. When Yassen stopped Alex knelt and offered up his arms with his head bowed to the floor.

The german spoke in russian "Such a good boy, Cossack. I commend you on your training. He must have been a delight to break."

Yassen just smiled before simply saying "Strip" in russian. Alex stood and took off his boots, shirt and trousers. Folding the clothes neatly and placing them on top of the boots on the floor before kneeling again.

"Lie on the bed." commanded the Russian assassin, watching Alex with a deep penetrating scare.

Alex lay down. Yassen knelt over him, holding Alex's hands over his head. Alex looked into Yassen's cold eyes. Yassen then began the slow familiar torture. Alex screamed for the first time as Yassen pressed the pressure point underneath his collar bone. The Russsian then kissed the area which still throbbed painfully. Yassen then addressed the German "I am going to fuck him now. Do you have any preferrence?

"On his knees facing me . I want to observe your faces."

Alex then moved to face the German. Alex was glad he had thought ahead and lubricated himself. It still hurt as Yassen ploughed in. Fucking with no concern for Alex, who barely had time to bite his lip to stifle his scream. Alex was soon awash with pleasure and pain. Yassen moved to masturbate him with quick hard strokes. Alex let himself go with his orgasm and the wonderful feeling of Yassen's come flooding his insides.

Alex collapsed on the bed and the German clapped and was then kissing Alex. Alex let the man completely dominate the kiss. Alex then watched as the German wanked himself, his cum covering Alex's stomach.

Yassen then helped Alex up, running him an bath while the russian was satisfied with a quick wash. "Relax, I have much to discuss with our host."


	17. Chapter 17

Alex dozed in the bath, only half listening as Yassen and the technician discussed the finer details of incendiaries and accelerants. So, the German started fires, ones the authorities could not detect as arson and therefore did not investigate. Alex finally left his moment of calm to re-enter the arena for more play. Alex walked into the main room, naked and with the careful movements of a trained operative as taught by Scorpia. Each movement precise, not a sound made. Alex was very like his companion, coiled ready for a fight. Alex taking in the entire room and its occupants.

The German started as Alex stopped in front of Yassen, eyes again down cast. Still and awaiting instructions. Yassen smiled and reached forward to envelope Alex in an embrace which was both comforting and completely possessive. Alex relaxed into the assassin's arms, sighing as Yassen stroked his back and arms.

The contact ceased far too soon and Yassen looked at the German and asked "Do you require any more entertainment?"

"Get the boy to sleep. I need to explain all this in detail. Then I will enjoy your company more." Then a cold, hard smile graced the arsonists face and he went back to his detailed talk with Yassen.

Alex looked at the bed and went to curl up naked in the corner. The intense discussion continued. Alex was tired and decided to sleep now that he could. The future was too much in flux at the moment, Alex had no idea how Yassen worked, but if it was like the the missions Alex had completed in the past he knew he would be living on adrenalin until they had completed their objective.

Alex jumped and was conscious as soon as someone touched him.

"You were having a nightmare." the Russian stated as a matter of fact. Yassen always woke him from his terrors and expected an explanation.

Alex looked pained. "About Port Tallon"

That got Alex a raised eyebrow "Do you want to talk about it?"

Alex laughed "I have recurring nightmares about being shoved in that tank with the Portuguese Man of War."

"Sayle tried to kill you?"

"Yes. I got out."

"Umm. You will tell me all about your missions in detail, OK?"

"Yes, Cossack."

Yassen then looked at Alex as if just remembering something important "I must give you a name. Something the evokes a wild spirit or something that survives beyond all odds. You have the luck of the devil."

"Maybe you should call me devil?"

"Demon? No you are more Angel?" At this Yassen stroked Alex's face and kissed him "umm Malakim I think."

Alex looked into Yassen's eyes, God this man was so hot. Alex touched Yassen's face lightly and kissed him hungrily. The German was on the bed watching their conversation and intimacy. Yassen pulled Alex to his feet and continued to kiss him, moving him back to the bed. Alex was pushed to lie down and then both men were stroking him, arousing him and kissing him. The German then sat back to masturbate as Yassen proceeded to fuck Alex.

In short order they had said their farewells to the technician. They had briefly stopped at the hotel to shower, change and collected their meagre belongings and were driving north.

Alex drove on the dual carriageway to Berlin and broke the silence before Yassen slept to ask "Did Hunter name you Cossack?"

"Yes. He said I was brave, skilled, independent fighter. Cossacks were original outlaws and escaped serfs. A fitting name for me."

Alex checked the road, subconscoiusly sweeping for a tail or any other irregularities "You know our target?"

"I know where they operate from. I still need to refine our information. The entire organisation will be liquidated."

"By fire?" queried Alex.

Yassen smiled as he closed his eyes to sleep. "By fire. They will burn."


	18. Chapter 18

Alex muttered under his breath and then sang the theme tune from his favourite TV show from when he lived in Berlin with Ian. Alex was filthy, unshaven and giving the best impression of being nuts. He also smelt of piss and stale beer. Ahh, the delights of stake out duty. Alex wandered the four blocks in East Berlin around a nightclub and a series of rental units which were the base of the Neo-Nazis Yassen had been tasked to kill. The bunch of shits had tried to frighten Alex but he'd just offered them bits of rubbish from the shopping trolley he was pushing around. Alex had gotten very little sleep in the last week but had kept Yassen informed of all the nice little details of all the visitors and comings and goings. Each had been checked out in detail by Cossack.

One of the club members was currently being entertained by Yassen. Alex had the misfortune of hearing the last interrogation session as he had passed on a camera card with person's of interest and a list of times and various occurrences. Alex had left Yassen to his work.

Alex was sorting through the rubbish from behind the club. Some sort of meeting was taking place. Alex had an ear piece in place, which was tuned to a bug in the main office. Plans for another attack were being discussed. A hotel was going to be attacked. A group of Israeli students were visiting Berlin for a conference. Alex went to the local phone box. He visited it occasionally and talked to his alien overmasters much to the amusement of the local school kids. The pastor in the local church even left out food for the poor lost soul. Alex thought it was all so so funny. His conversation with Yassen was brief. Cossack instructed Alex to contact a Mossad agent at a cafe across town. Alex had no time to change. This was going to be fun.

Alex had left the chalk mark in the prearranged spot. The cafe was busy as Alex watched a handsome young woman sit and place the paper she was carrying in the correct position. So it was safe to talk.

The woman curled up her nose and stated "You are not Cossack"

"Cossack's busy. I'm Malakim." Alex passed over detailed notes of the overheard terrorist attack. "I have to get back to work."

"Is this threat genuine?" questioned the woman.

Alex then passed over his earpiece and replayed the digital recording. "Listen"

The woman looked at him, taking in all the details of the filthy face before her as she listened to terrorists talk of the hotel and their plan of attack.

"Thank you Malakim." She handed back the earpiece.

"Back to work, Cheerio."

Joe Byrne was sat in the secure communications hub at Langley and was on the line to his Covert Operations equivalents in Tel Aviv. "So what did this other Scorpia operative look like apart from a bum?"

"Young, very young. Possibly under eighteen. Blue eyes, but they could have been contacts. Dark blond or red hair it was hard to tell under the filth."

"Fuck! Sounds like Cossack has a son." swore the CIA man.

"Our intel from Dresden suggests Cossack's traveling companion is his submissive" interjected another Mossad agent hidden out of site of the camera.

Byrne was now totally confused, "Submissive?"

"The kid had sex with Cossack in full view of an entire club. 'Malakim' was covered in bruises from being bound and tortured by pressure point."

Byrne shuddered at the thought of Scorpia's favoured method of breaking subjects. "No one would allow someone to do that to them willingly. So, we have a brainwashed plaything?"

"No, definitely Scorpia trained." The older Mossad Agent then came out of the shadows. The kid had shaken his tail in Berlin with practiced ease. "We suggest that it might be Alexander Rider. The kid was already quite maladjusted after Cairo so a few weeks with a trained torturer interspersed with regular rapes. Voila! You get a well trained Pavlovian subject."

Byrne visibly paled. He'd liked Alex. He was a great kid. "Christ no. The kid liked girls."

"Push someone hard enough and you get what you want from them. We both know that from our own assassin programmes."

"We decommissioned our controlled agents in the 80's." Byrne stated emphatically. They had a tendency to break conditioning at the most inopportune moments.

The younger Mossad agent stated "We need to get the kid out and re-programme him. Either that or you have an independent hit man of the caliber of Cossack."

"Shit, are you going to speak to MI6?""

"No we want to reel the kid in. We plan to make an offer to Cossack. Malakim would be an asset to Israel if we could tame him." stated the older Israeli with a smile.

"You lot are a real bunch of mother fuckers."

"Both you and I know Jones will send a destroy team after Alexander. He's too much of a loose cannon. That boy has no loyalty to anyone."

"Contact me when you have some actual proof it is Rider." At that Byrne cut the connection. So, Alex had been kidnapped by Cossack and was now in Dresden. Byrne could not jeopardize any agents in place in Eastern Europe. He had to hope the Israeli's intel and analysis were wrong.


	19. Chapter 19

The stakeout was over and Alex was lying in a bath in a house on the outskirts of Berlin. The owner was now very dead along with the rest of the Nazi scum. Alex had switched off the morning news, which had reported on a tragic fire at an illegal nightclub in East Berlin, fire exits chained shut. He had last seen Yassen two days ago. Alex had finally left his temporary home behind the nightclub early this morning when he had seen smoke rising from the building. Alex had left his beloved shopping trolley behind. The homeless bum would be included in the dead.

He just daydreamed in the bath. Getting A Levels, going to college and maybe into the army as a regular not a SAS nutcase. Maybe an engineer or medic. Alex's brow furrowed and he disappeared under the water to hid the tears in his eyes. Just think of the now. No future. Just think of Yassen. Alex was not a murdering bastard. He did not want to be one. Thug, soldier or spy. Not such a big jump to cold calculating assassin. Alex could admire Yassen's abilities but it was not what he wanted for himself.

Alex tried to stop thinking. Tried to stop the realisation his life had again descended into chaos. Alex was sick of it. He could run or he could end it, here and now. Alex mused on the fact everything had come to a head again. Talk, he needed to talk to Yassen. It was a good solution. Yassen would help, or he just off Alex. Its not like Alex was a kid anymore. Yassen did not need any hindrances, no man in his chosen profession could could, no matter if Alex was a good fuck or not. Alex then thought why make Yassen do the dirty work. Alex was perfectly capable of making his own choices.

Alex got out of the bath and went to the living room where there was a well stocked bar. He had the choice of whisky, tequila or vodka to get shit faced on. Alex then went to the bathroom cabinet. Oh what a choice of pills. Sleeping tablets. Umm Alex's favourite self medication. He'd been up to using six or seven tablets to get the required affect last year. Alex sat in the lounge, he neatly lined up all the tablets and counted them He downed a large glass of vodka grimacing with each mouthful. There was no enjoyment about the experience. Alex would drink until his thoughts and emotions were distant enough to find peace and calm. Alex looked at the pills and started to cry again. Weak pathetic fool that he was. He was still sat watching the tablets, resisting temptation, when Yassen returned.

Alex was the first to speak "I need to talk to you." Alex then giggled at the slurred words.

"You have been drinking"

"Yes. Vodka. Russian vodka. Better than the stuff I drank on the streets. Same affect though. Almost calm, almost not quite."

"Has our last job caused this?"

"No. You aren't to blame. I shouldn't listen to the voices in my head. I shouldn't look in the mirror." Alex then laughed. "The problem with pretending to be insane is that you find loosing yourself is much more appealing to being yourself. I hate Alex Rider, so much."

Yassen's expression clouded. Maybe he'd been a fool to think Alex could be whole and healthy given his line of work. Yassen had chosen to be a killer and excelled at it. Alex had been forced, blackmailed, abused and broken to the point it was his only choice.

The russian knelt down to face Alex. "You need to sleep. We will talk when you are rested and over this episode. I should not have left you for so long. Don't worry, just sleep little one. You are safe here for now."

Yassen watched Alex fall into an exhausted sleep. He had pushed the boy too far. Alex had performed wonderfully. Yassen had been neglectful and he would have to be more careful handling Alex. Alex just pushed himself to the point he broke. He had been taught to do this. Yassen would have to teach him to be aware of working too hard. You had to maintain the careful balance to stay on top of your game.


	20. Chapter 20

Alex had forgotten that drinking had major side effects, now as he woke he noticed the tell tale signs of a hangover. Yassen was asleep opposite him in the armchair. Alex could not help but groan as he moved. He stood up, making it to the bathroom in time to vomit. He was not surprised as he had not eaten much in the past week. Drinking to excess on top of an empty stomach was stupidity of the highest order. What had he been thinking! Alex washed his face. He glanced in the mirror at the bearded, grey, drawn stranger. The bathroom cabinet was empty. Alex needed some painkillers and a drink of coca cola. The best cure all in the universe.

Yassen was awake when Alex returned to the living room. He took the two tablets offered by the russian and then went to the refrigerator to get a can of coke. He downed the blissfully cold liquid beverage in one go then opened a second can to take the tablet.

Yassen had followed him into the kitchen and there broke the silence. "I will make breakfast. Sit before you fall down."

Alex had been expecting fireworks, but Yassen was cool, calm and collected; seemingly not bothered by Alex's behaviour yesterday. A tray of food was deposited on Alex's lap and he ate the eggs, sausage and toast without complaint. Yassen ate as well, drinking a large cup of coffee. Alex was sure Yassen as well had been surviving for the last few weeks on too little sleep and not enough food.

Yassen then said "Get dressed I will clean up the house, we will be travelling to a safe house in Frankfurt where I will arrange payment. You have earned a large bonus from our employers as well. They want to know more about you."

Alex looked at Yassen. "Do they think I'm a trained killer?"

"They suspect you are Scorpia trained. They had three agents following you. You lost them with remarkable ease."

"You were watching?"

"I expected them to detain you actually. I do not trust them."

Alex laughed. "I'm sorry for yesterday. I was at the end of my tether. I should have ordered takeout not just gone for a bath." Alex then smiled wryly. "Low blood sugar, no sleep. Bad combination."

Yasen smiled a warm genuine smile "So you recognise your problem. Good. You must look after yourself while working. Only crash when you are sure of payment and when you are out of the area. We have a long way to travel. You can sleep in the car. I will wake you if I need to rest."

Yassen woke Alex in Jena when they changed cars. The russian allowed Alex to pick the lock and hot wire the chosen boring family car and then he fell asleep when Alex started west again on the autobahn. Alex slowed as the first exit for Frankfurt neared, when Yassen told him "Next Exit". The russian was suddenly awake. "Did I miss anything?"

"Car fire fifty clicks back, looked like an ancient fiat. Nothing else apart from bad driving." Alex had driven between 80kph and 120 kph all the way. Fast enough for the normal family travelers, not the like nutters in their big fast super cars whizzing past with ease.

"Good, next exit, turn towards the city centre." They travelled into Frankfurt when Yassen stated "Park on any side street.". They abandoned the car, cleaning off all prints and walked for a kilometre to a run down apartment building.

Third floor, furthest from the stairs Apartment 3g. "Are all your safehouses dingy?" queried a tired grim faced Alex.

"This one was mine and mine alone. Weekly cleaning paid for out of a dead drop bank account. Stocked with basic food. We will crash here for 4 to 5 days then hopefully on to a new job."

"Good that place in Paris was filthy."

"Says they boy who lived on the streets."

Alex let out a long breath as if he'd been holding his breath, as he watched as Yassen checked out the apartment the views out of the windows, checking all possibilities and making sure they were safe. When Yassen relaxed so would Alex. Yassen came back into the main room and opened the fridge throwing a beer at Alex and opening a can himself. Ice cold beer was a like nectar to a thirsty man. Alex looked at Yassen closing the space between them and then waited for Yassen to finish his drink. Alex held up his can "Do you want another?"

"Are you not drinking?"

"Still not right after drinking all that vodka"

Yassen shrugged and opened the offered beer, taking another long slug. "Hair of the dog."

Alex watched Yassen relax, noting the man was tired. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes. Very"

Alex looked through the cupboards and decided on Spaghetti Puttanesca, a store cupboard favourite of Jack's. Quick, easy and tasty. Anchovies, olives, garlic in a jar and tinned tomatoes. Alex cooked the entire packet of spaghetti. Across the room Yassen turned on the TV while Alex was busy.

They both ate watching a dutch TV version of Big Brother. Neither of them understanding a word. It was just background noise.

"That was excellent, I must learn to cook that. I tend just to eat simple things I can heat up." said a sated and very full Yassen Gregorovich.

"Jack taught me all she knew about cooking. Everything fast and easy. I make a mean Carbonara as well." Alex paused and then added "I miss her."

"I wish I had known this woman who was so important to you."

"She would have dated you for about two weeks." Alex did not add that she had probably dated Ian before she took the job and had dated Ash as well.

Yassen paled at the thought.

"You don't do girls at all do you?" Alex looked at Yassen and almost apologised for his presumption.

"No." said Yassen simply.

Alex then smiled coyly and sat by Yassen's feet. The younger man pulled at the laces of the russian's boots then removed them both then his socks. Alex then began to massage his lover's feet. As Yassen relaxed Alex kissed the feet and mouthed and licked the toes, finally sucking at them. The assassin groaned and muttered in a low moan "Sinful boy. Come let us rest. Tomorrow I will fuck you again and again."


	21. Chapter 21

Alex was awake early, after going to the bathroom, he returned and stood in the grey half light and watched Yassen sleep. Strange to think that Yassen Gregorovich was comfortable enough in his presence, not to wake. Alex then returned to bed and the sleeping form curled closer around him. Finally after weeks of being alone and on tenderhooks Alex could relax again. Safe in an assassin's bed. Alex smiled thinking of Yassen's promise to fuck him again and again and he felt himself hardening at the thought. Yassen then shifted and his morning erection brushed Alex's arse. Alex started to masturbate unable to contain himself any longer.

"Stop!" came the order. "That and your release belongs to me."

Alex immediately stopped and groaned wanting friction and the slow built to orgasm.

Yassen sat up and opened the bedside drawer, then retrieved several items. "Give me your wrists." Alex obeyed as handcuffs encircled his wrists, which were then attached to the headboard. Yassen then moved to Alex's erection. All thoughts of release were stopped when Yassen placed a cock ring around his penis and balls. Alex whimpered and Yassen kissed him. Alex leaned into the kiss, wanting any contact with his lover. Yassen then moved Alex onto his stomach. Cool moist fingers circled Alex's anus. Yassen slowly prepared Alex for intercourse then an object, cold, blunt and wide was pushed into the young man. "Now, Alex you are truly beautiful" Yassen hissed as he kissed Alex's neck and shoulders while playing with the butt plug.

Alex moaned "Please!"

"All in good time, beloved. All in good time."

Alex was too tired to move let alone talk. Yassen was snoring softly beside him. Alex thought it had been a perfect day. Fuck and sleep, repeated four times. It had been slow and sensuous torture and each orgasm had been exquisitely drawn out. Now he was sated and ravenously hungry. After a monumental effort, Alex stood and made his way to the kitchen. A pizza delivery with side orders was a perfect solution. Phone call made. Food would arrive in 20 minutes. Just enough time to shower and put on some loose clothes.

Alex went to wake his lover after the food arrived. Eating in silence, both men were famished. Alex wiped his chin and decided to speak.

"Are we resting for a few days?"

"Yes. We will lay low. Tomorrow we will spar and train."

Alex was unsure how to proceed with his uncertaintites and worries. He looked at his plate and decided to bite the bullet "I don't think I'm cut out to be an assassin. I think you know that as well. You've been sheltering me. Protecting me."

"Alex, you have killed successfully in the past. To survive. I do much more than just eliminate targets. My work for Scorpia involved procurement, logistics and protection. You have already undertaken these skills for MI6, for ASIS, for the CIA, for Scorpia, for Dimitri and myself" Yassen then ate another slice of pizza. "I guess if any of the agents or thugs in Berlin had threatened you would have removed the threat as efficiently as I would do."

Alex pondered this. "I do not think I am not ready for solo work, yet." Alex took a deep drink of cold coca cola. "Surely there are plenty of ex-Scorpia employees freelancing now?"

Yassen laughed. "You would think so. I'm afraid when Scorpia fell, the loss of the committee meant most were left to fend for themselves. The training made many too arrogant and sure of themselves. They did not integrate with mafia or criminals. Most met with violent ends. You are unusual Alex. You sit, observe and don't rock the boat. You show just enough skills to get by. Dima knows you are a skilled marksman, a fine combatant and you know how to underplay yourself. You could fit in as a toy, an enforcer or as a negotiator. You Little Alex are a chameleon."

Alex looked at Yassen and furrowed his brow. "Do you blend into the background as well?"

"That fool Sayle dismissed me as a go between. I was his handler and he thought he was in charge. Never underestimate your colleagues or your opponents. A simple mistake that could be your last."

Alex mused on this. "Even people like Rogan?"

"John introduced me to Rogan. Working for Mossad pays well but never think that they would not stab you in the back. Rogan is a fanatic. All fanatics are dangerous."

"Are all Mossad operatives fanatics?"

"Some. Rogan is a loner. A true assassin. They have search and destroy teams in place all over the globe. Since the 1970's they have been active removing threats to themselves. Working for them has earned me lots of money. I have also worked for the American's and the British. Do not think in black and white. Working for some groups gets you noticed in a bad way. You must pick your jobs, some are too dangerous, even obscene amounts of money are not enough. You can always sell the information to others."

"Would you sell me?"

Yassen looked at Alex. "No. I might tell you to work for someone or to take a job but I would not betray you."

Alex was not going to let this go "Even if I was a danger to you."

Yassen smiled a hard, cold smile. "You are more a danger to yourself than to me."

Alex could not relax. "I like being yours. I have felt more comfortable with you." Alex did not say the words on the tip of his tongue. Love.. Was it love? or just some strange survival instinct. "Are you training me to be as dangerous as you?"

"Ian trained you to be a perfect operative. You just keep collecting skills. A month ago you spoke no Russian, now we converse in it. I will teach you Arabic and Hebrew. Maybe Mandarin. I think we will work together for a while yet"

Alex breathed a bit easier. "Do you think we will stay lovers, even after I take on freelance work?"

"Maybe. I would like to think so." Yassen understood than Alex needed some stability at the moment. In a week, he would contact Dima. A week to enjoy Alex.


	22. Chapter 22

**Of Note Malakim - meaning messenger or sixth rank of angel, version of Malachi**

Alex had finally been invited into Dima's office. He stood in the shadows and listened as Dima told Yassen of Mossad's interest in Malakim.

"They want a meeting. I think they want a demonstration of Malakim's skills" Dima then looked at Yassen "I can see why you called him angel." Alex's hair was growing again and was soft and curling around his temples and ears.

Alex under his breath muttered "Are not demons just fallen angels?"

Alex took the glass of vodka offered. Another test of sorts he guessed. Alex was expected to control himself in all areas while working and not resting. He had to drink but never to excess and never to dull your senses. There was danger even with friends. Alex downed the oily liquid in one before turning his glass over. Alex noted a quick smile of approval from Cossack.

"He looks like a different boy." Dima had noted the change over the boy. He was like a mirror image of his father, yet colder, harder and so in control. The effect of working with Yassen. "Umm the Technician in Dresden thanked you for your payment and for your entertainment." Dima then looked at Alex quickly. Alex smiled inwardly, and wondered if Yassen would invite Dima into their bed. "Three delegates from Tel Aviv are arriving and I will provide them with accommodation. They have paid a handsome amount just for a show."

Yassen looked pensive before leaning back and looking at the ceiling. "Give Malakim a job, first. I will observe but he will execute the contract."

Dima looked pensive. "There is a open contract on Zeljan Kurst. No one had come close."

Yassen laughed. "So, has he run to ground in Serbia?"

"Yes."

"Liquidation?" queried Alex.

"Yes. No preferences. Just proof of his death."

Yassen asked Dima while observing Alex. "Who did Zeljan upset?"

"Head of Russian State Security. He supplied arms to some Chechen rebels. The bombing of the Moscow Subway caused the death of Vladek Zekov's son."

Dima looked a bit apologetic at Yassen "I did not offer you the contract because of your checkered past with state security."

Alex was curious. Obviously Yassen's policy of working for anyone who paid did not stretch as far as his home country.

Alex studied the file supplied by Dima. Yassen had told Alex a great deal about his former boss. Alex had to plan, organise and execute a hit on the former head of Scorpia. He could and probably should refuse, but this bastard was responsible for Jack's murder and for destroying Alex's last slim grip on childhood, hope and of his last sliver of normality. Alex knew he should have been working but he thought back to when he was fourteen during his first holiday with Sabina and her parents, then he would have given his soul to have family. The reality of fostering had just proved to Alex he was a freak, an aberration that had no reason to fit in with humanity. Life at Harlsden Hall and at Baysdale had been preferable. There he had been surrounded by life's other defectives, failures, misfits and rejects. Yassen had spoken the truth best to be outside of society until your luck ran out. The idea of retirement was only for the most successful and the rich. Alex did not want riches, the idea of snatching moments of calm and bliss with Yassen was enough. Alex then went back to planning a hit on a man who had trusted no one.

Yassen noted a tired Alex had returned the apartment after studying for days. Alex had gone over maps, hacked files and read and reread mission reports by the UN, CIA and the Russians. Alex had a plan of action. Find, observe, destroy. Just like hunting. Alex climbed into bed and hugged Yassen. The Russian leaned over and began kissing him. Alex loved the way Yassen possessed him. Alex held his arms over his head offering himself fully to Yassen. The Russian then played his body to the point Alex was lost on the edge of orgasm to be held there at the peak was agony and ecstasy. All thoughts of work, operations and anything beyond Yassen's blue eyes did not matter just here, just the now. This was exactly what Alex needed.


	23. Chapter 23

For seven weeks, Alex had found the life in Stremska Mitrovica strangely homely. Life there was close knit and friendly. It was strange saying hello to everyone and passing the time of day with complete strangers. Alex had a job as a volunteer aid worker in the local orphanage. He worked three 12 hour shifts a week and had picked up Serbian pretty quickly. It was good as his cover of being as French was a major language barrier. He was staying at small boarding house. He was down for eight weeks work before returning home. Alex cycled widely within the surrounding 60km, and had taken photographs of everything and everybody. From several small clues he knew he had closed in on his target. Zeljan Kurst had grown up here and had bought property in the area. Each house had been checked out by Alex. Two were possibilities for Kurst's hiding place. Alex could bet it was the farm with clear views from all angles.

Alex would continue to randomly travel around the district this week, until his trip this weekend, travelling to Belgrade with the two other volunteers to go clubbing. Marta and Helga were from Denmark and had twigged Alex was gay, just from the fact he had not hit on either one of them. Alex was shy withdrawn and only opened up when working. He'd been given some shit jobs, mending the toilets and digging out the latrine pit. The fact he had not complained and had just got on with it which had helped him be accepted.

Alex had enjoyed his last weekend in Serbia. He planned his hit on the day before his departure. The body should not be discovered until he was safely out of the country, not on his planned flight but via Slovenia and Italy on a stashed motorbike.

Dressed as a postal worker Alex visited the farms coming up the road with various parcels, bills and letters. Alex, before he arrived, had made sure his legend had the same hair and eye colour of the local postman. Alex now had brown hair and blue contacts. The real postal worker was stopping at his usual 2 hour fuck with a local farmers wife. Alex had stolen the post for these farms and had not seen any of the neighbours as it was market day. He was roughly the same built as the regular postman, a virtual twin unless anyone looked closely at him. He arrived at the house in question and rang the bell. Zeljan himself answered the door. So much for being careful. There was a soft pop and the large Serbian fell to the floor clutching his stomach. Alex face broke out in a cold cruel smile as the man gasped for air, his face grey in agony. In perfect Serbian Alex stated "You did not think I would give you a quick death, umm."

Gasps were interrupted as the dying man grunted "Who are you?"

"And I thought Scorpia never forgave and never forgot. You have about twenty minutes before you die. I could give you a quicker death but why bother. You ruined my life. I think you deserve a long slow agonising death."

Alex pulled out a small video camera and started to film the end of Zeljan Kurst. "A little entertainment for the Russians, they are paying two million dollars for your death." Alex did not add that he would have done it for expenses alone.

The breaths rattled out of Zeljan and stopped. Alex thought it so funny that the man had not recognised him. Alex rode a kilometre to the nearest wood and stripped off his uniform and put it in his bag. He then saw the real postman go past. Everything had planned out perfectly. Alex walked through the wood to a little used track back to town. He left his bicycle, newly cleaned of course, at the orphanage for the next aid worker to use. He had buried the postal uniform he had stolen in Belgrade in the forest after he had covered it in bleach. He had worn gloves all morning, h would burn those in the fire tonight. Under the cover of darkness, Alex stowed the gun in its hiding place under the seat of the motorbike when Alex moved it to his rendezvous point.

Alex sat on the bus to Belgrade the next morning with Marta and Helga before dramatically opening his rucksack and pulling its contents out. "Merde! I have left my camera in the lodgings. I have to go back." He went to the bus driver and got off, before starting to walk back in the hope of hitch-hiking back to his lodging house. The bus disappeared out of view and Alex jogged to where the motorbike was hidden and of he rode north-west towards Italy. The video camera and card of photos from tracking down Zeljan and his death were safely stowed away with the gun.

Dima had taken note of the coded message from Malakim. The job had been completed. Cossack had made himself visible in Paris as several MI6 operatives had been looking for both Cossack and his new apprentice. Cossack had easily lost the SAS trained men before returning to Frankfurt to wait for Alex.

The head of State Security looked at the large photos of Zeljan Kurst's body and viewed the video of the hit made by the mystery Scorpia trained operative Malakim. The murder had made it to the international news. The journalist had stated the killing looked amateur as no hitman would shoot into the stomach, such a messy and painful way to die. The Serbian Police had thought it a crime of passion, personal revenge against the former head of the secret police and later terrorist.

Malakim fit all known details of Alexander John Rider, except the video showed the fact that Zeljan had not recognised his attacker. Were they being led to believe this was Rider or was it all a red herring? All in all it did not matter if Rider was a free agent. The money had been wired to the intermediary and there were more pressing matters to attend to.


	24. Chapter 24

Alex stood in the clearing waiting for Dima's guests to arrive. Alex was nervous and had to physically tense his body to stop himself biting his nails. He did not want to perform like a dog for strangers. He thought back to his hated existance at MI6's beck and call. They would be just the same.

Yassen had secured the perimeter with Pasha and Vlad. No unwanted guests during the entertainment. Dima had devised the test. Alex then felt the hairs on his neck stick up. He ducked. Dust was kicked up to his left and he was moving, fast low and zig zagging to cover. He launched himself just as a string of bullets spat into the dirt. Alex guessed the test had started. So who was hunting him. Mossad? Yassen? Or all of them. He kept low covered by low tree cover and scrub. He could see nothing, he just had a vague idea of the direction of the shooter. Then he thought where would Dima be sat to watching all the fun. Alex crawled backwards into the wood to start to stakeout his attackers.

Dima had devised a two hour hunt and evade exercise. He was sure that little Malakim would surprise them all. It had been forty minutes since Alex had dived for cover. The Russian sat back and watched the video feeds from the camera feeds of the forest.

Yassen watched Alex and smiled. Alex had seen him with his video camera. Cossack was acting as impartial observer as the three Mossad Agents tried to capture Alex. Alex quickly tracked around and spotted the first of the Mossad Agents. He climbed the tree to note if any others were in the vicinity or if any traps had been laid. He dropped down as the operative moved off. The time limit approached and the three Mossad agents met up. Alex then strode forward, gun in hand smiling having caught all three off guard.

At that point Yassen started to clap. "Congratulations, Malakim. Perfectly manouvering and stake out. I have taught you well."

Alex had already discussed with Yassen that it was a good tactical move to work for Mossad. He would get a base of operations with backup and full medical cover. The fact he was semi freelance would mean he could return to work for Dima and Yassen if called for. Their final night together saw Alex kneel before Yassen and offer himself for all that his lover desired. Alex had grown to adore the feral wild Yassen that was unleashed during no holds barred sex. Yassen did not bind his young lover. Alex stayed as still as possible as the pain grew to agony under the Russian's skilled hands. Alex was still amazed at how Yassen could own him so completely. Yassens long thick cock filled him so completely. It was pure fucking, bruising and brutal.

The next morning Alex had bathed and dressed. A scarf covered the bruises on his throat. He had a split lip, a bruised cheek and his eyes looked hollow and showed the lack of sleep. Dima drove him to a small airfield where a Learjet was waiting.

Alex was thoroughly searched when he boarded the plane and his clothes and bag scanned and x-rayed. He was handed new clothes. The two agents guarding him made no comment on the extensive bruising and welts covering his body. He did not complain as a tablet was handed to him. Sleep was welcome. Alex awoke to find himself handcuffed and chained to the seat. The engines were still. They had arrived while he had been unconscious. He stole a look out of the window which showed a military airfield. Cars waiting on the apron by the plane. Alex stretch and the guard nearest to him, unchained him but left on the handcuffs and motioned for him to stand and then pointed to the exit. He stretched as he stood, the guard following him a a safe distance to exit the plane and make his way down the steps.

There was a large armoured car with black tinted windows, the rear door was opened as he approached. He sat his eyes adjusting to the dark interior another person joined him in the rear and they sped off to an unknown destination. Alex remained quiet.

The stranger was in his fifties in the uniform of a Colonel in the Israeli Defence Force. He sat and faced the handuffed passanger. "Welcome to Israel, Malakim or would you prefer Alex?"

"You may call me Alex" Alex stated in a low emotionless voice.

"You have not asked any questions about our plans."

Alex shrugged. He would roll with the punches. After all the time he had spent with MI6 he expected to be treated like a mushroom. "I would expect you would only inform me what I needed to know."

"You are to undergo basic agent fitness assessment. Medical, Psychological, Fitness and Operational Skills. This is a five week training similar to the training for MI6 and CIA agents"

"Really, I got two weeks half arsed training with a bunch of nut jobs at Brecon when I was fourteen. I learned more in four weeks I was with Scorpia than I did from them." Alex responded in the same even calm tone.

"Maybe we should start with going over our file on you. You can fill in details. We would not expect you to compromise Cossack."


	25. Chapter 25

Director of Operations Training, Colonel Jakob Solokov, sat in the meeting room awaiting the unit medical officer and psychiatrist to discuss their newest addition with the Director of Mossad, David Goldman.

The medical officer looked pissed when he sat down. The files passed to all at the meeting noted a list of injuries present on the Operative Malakim when he arrived on base.

The MO's assessment was first. "Malakim from the data lodged is seventeen years old. He is slightly underweight but physical at the peak of physical fitness. His initial examination showed he had been tortured extensively and sexually assaulted within the previous 24 hours of arrival on base. He needs to see a dentist, which I have noted on his medical file."

"Sexually assaulted?"

"Anal tearing and extensive bruising of both his thighs, buttocks and anus."

The Director of Operations then looked at the Shrink "Any details, Doctor Leveson?"

"I asked Alex about his injuries. He has a sexual relationship with Cossack. Cossack is a controlling Sadist and is in a Dominant/Submissive relationship with the youth. Alex maintains the physical aspect of sex is fully consensual, but" At the but the man paused as if trying to find the right word. "Alex has had a relationship with Cossack since his uncle died. I fear Alex's attachment to the man is not healthy. Cossack abducted and tortured the boy at least once during operations for MI6 and then again from his placement at the Baysdale centre. Alex has an complex fascination with the man bordering on obsessive."

The medical officer then piped up "His injuries were extensive and suggested the standard Scorpia method of pressure point stimulation used to break captives. I have never seen this in a consensual BDSM relationship. This is torture pure and simple. Not pleasurable in any way."

"Is Malakim a Masocist?" asked David Goldman, still reading through the medical brief.

The Psychiatrist then replied "No. Not in the traditional sense, Alex has been programmed from a young age to respond to stimuli and adapt to even the most horrific situations. He is a survivor."

"Did he pass his Psychological assessment?"

The Psychiatrist looked troubled before he stated "He passed but I would suggest careful monitoring and continued sessions. I would recommend we help him form a more health attachment to one of our agents. Continued involvement with Cossack could be self destructive and harmful."

"So he is cleared to progress to training?"

Both medics nodded and confirmed that Malakim was cleared for operational training.

Wolf sat across the street from the Parisian Club were Cub had supposedly been seen. The SAS man hated stake outs. The CIA had passed on a known contact of Cossack, a local hood called Dimiri Stevankov, ex- Scorpia now organised crime. Cossack was working for this bloke supposedly with Cub. The rumours through the SAS grapevine was that this Cossack had been captured in 2001 and held in Gibraltar and then on the Island of Rona, before escaping this summer. Cossack was noted in SAS files as Scorpia's top assassin after the death of Hunter. Nothing concrete had been seen nor heard about Cub since his disappearance. Wolf got out of the car to do another circuit of the neighbourhood.

Wolf had been given very little information in the brief from MI6, just confirm Cub's presence. He'd seen four russian hoods but no sign of Cub. He returned to his car when his mobile phone went off. Wolf did not speak just noted the code words for a termination of the operation and return to base.

Wolf thought no more of Cub until he saw Fox two weeks later. They sat in a nosy, crowded pub.

In a low voice, threatening and bossy tone Wolf growled "Spill the beans on Cub now. Sergeant Dixon has been hassling for details. You can talk, we've all signed the OSA, don't give me any of that 'its Classified' crap. So tell me why the search operation was called off. I know Cub was in Paris. I got several positive ID's from people visiting that club."

Fox visibly deflated. "Mossad have him. Cossack traded him for an undisclosed sum of money. CIA know more than us, they sent confirmation that Malakim was Alex, sorry Cub. They also sent through copies of Mossad's medical files. It appears the rumours floating around are true."

"What rumours?" Wolf had heard nothing but then again he was still SAS not a nasty sneaky spook like Fox.

"Alex has been tortured and raped repeatedly by the bastard who abducted him. Pavlovian conditioning. We all know Mossad's still uses such methods to train its own assassin's. So Alex is now a perfect assassin. Detached, cold and deadly"

"Thanks for that Ben." Wolf ground out. "How the hell do I break that to Gerald? He really liked the kid."

"Tell him straight. The kid we knew is gone. Mourn him. I know I am. Alex was a great kid, a friend. The thing he's been turned into is a complete emotionless killing machine."

Martin did not believe in lost causes. Any repentant soul could be saved. His whole ministry had been based on this premise. Gerald had told the friar in confidence the news passed down from his contact in the SAS working on Alex's abduction. The case was now officially closed. The government had lost the boy to a foreign agency. Horrific methods had been used to break and programme Alex to be a killer. Martin prayed for the quiet boy who had begun to joke and smile. They had connected with the hurt, lost child. They had started his rehabilitation. God willing Alex would return to heal and become whole. Hope was not lost. Martin had faith in God's great plan. He worked in mysterious ways. Alex's road was hard and difficult one, but the boy's soul was good and pure.


	26. Chapter 26

Alex was asked if he had any goals for his training. He looked perplexed and stared at the Sergeant like he had two heads. He was just here to coast. Do the minimum required. "Do I need to speak Hebrew?"

"It would help. Most of the instructors peak either English or Russian as a second language. Do you speak Arablic?"

"No. It was on Cossacks list of future skills to aquire." stated Alex.

"Cossack?" the Sergeant asked, noting the name in his file.

"My former trainer."

The Sergeant knew the kid had work operations for MI6 and the CIA but was unfamiliar with this code name. He then asked about Alex's training to date.

Alex confirmed the sparse details. "You have not mentioned Malagasto?". The point on the Sergent's pencil snapped dramatically.

"Scorpia Training Headquarters? It been abandoned for two, maybe three years." Stated the soldier with a hard face. Many enemies of Israel had received training there.

"Oh, really?" Alex smiles widened but was hard and cruel. "Opps on my part I guess. I did enjoy training there, but Julia Rothman was a complete bitch."

The sergeant did not bother to get another pencil "So, you are a Scorpia trained assassin?"

"Yep." Alex continued to smile.

The sergeant made a mental note not to allow this child alone at any time. This was the teenage agent who brought down Scorpia. Ruthlessness and chaos rolled into one harmless looking package. No, the Sergeant was going to use this teenager to scare all the agents here for re-evaluation. Here was a living embodiment of the opposition. Rumour was the kid had evaded three highly trained operatives on his placement test. The Sergeant opened his desk drawer an puled out a bottle of Johnnie Walker. He poured two glasses and stated "To Life."

Alex downed his glass in one gulp and stared at the glass. "Umm not bad. Better than vodka. Got any cigarettes?"

A packet was thrown to the kid with a box of matches. The sergeant then added, "I'll make you a deal. I bet you have trained far more intensively than this file suggests. I'll pit you against my advanced training group. Show me what you can do. Don't play. Efficiency and simplicity. Minimum effort but be sharp no slacking, OK?"

"Sure Sergeant. What do I get for good behaviour?" asked Alex shrewdly looking intently at the Sergeant.

"We normally hand out weekend passes, but thats not going to happen in your case. How about beer and decent food at my house on base? A bit of normality. My wife's a good cook. What do you say?"

"Home cooked food. Its a deal." Alex had not expected the Sergeant to be so amenable. Then again, Gerald at Baysdale had been totally different to his time at Brecon. Yassen had told him to cultivate friendships. He guessed it started here. Knowing training he guessed the actual agents would hate his fucking guts for being a kid with no business being here. Funny, it had been Alex's business even before Ian had died.


	27. Chapter 27

Alex spent the evening and the next day supposedly resting but used the hours to attempt to get a basic grasp of Hebrew. He had been given a bunch of tapes and a basic primer as a start with a promise of evening tutorials. Arabic would start after he'd proved proficient in Hebrew.

Monday morning started with Alex was being sent to stores to get kitted out. He smiled and looked gormless when they talked about him. He felt completely alien to everyone and everything here. He had a permanent escort who seemed to be channeling Wolf's wonderful caring and open personality, thought Alex ryely. He'd positively hated Brecon. This looked like more of the same with slightly better food. Alex picked at his breakfast when his shadow ordered him to eat up. Obviously the MO had passed on the fact Alex was underweight.

Alex made a mental note of the five others here for this training group. Alex was the only one on base with an escort. The others all eyed him warily. Alex wondered what wonderful rumours were circulating. He chuckled to himself and shook his head, it was like school. Instead of Druggie Rider, what wild and wonderful things were being said here.

Unlike the SAS, there were no training code names. Teamwork was encouraged so first names were expected. All the others were IDF regulars hoping to transfer to Black ops. The Sergeant noted Alex had used his given name during the introductions. Malakim was his Scorpia codename. The rumour on base was that the mysterious arrival was a turned terrorist. Alex looked surprisingly relaxed about everything. Alex's shadow was the usually the hand to hand combat instructor. His eyes never left the boy. He had already told the Sergeant, the boy had slipped from combat ready to teenager mode. They both knew not to trust any outward appearances from Alex Rider. This kid was an operations gold mine and was now theirs to train, connect with and use.

How quaint. Each trainee was to give a short address about their skills and experience. Alex listened to the others talk of their army units, training and operations. Then it was Alex's turn. "Umm right, I'm a bit younger than you lot, 17. Started working for MI6 at 14. Loaned out to the CIA and ASIS. Nine operations, all deemed successful. The last one was a real fuck up on MI6's part. CIA cleaned that one up. Trained with the SAS then Scorpia. Been working as a freelance for a couple of months. You lot offered me a job so here I am."

"You trained with that bunch of terrorists, Scorpia. How?" asked the only woman in the group with a hard face. She was the only one who recognised the name, suggesting she had a background that was not regular soldier.

"My dad was Hunter." Alex added mysteriously.

The girl swore in Hebrew. The sergeant stared at the boy. then added "Just for your information Hunter was a MI6 deep cover agent. Alex's uncle was also an agent for MI6."

"How come you are not still working for them?" the girl then asked.

"My last operation for MI6 lead me to be captured by the Iraqi Razim, I broke. They killed the one person I considered family. I killed him and his key henchmen. I was kind of burned by MI6 after that. I was assessed as being a bit unstable mentally." Alex then smiled.

They all looked at him, some with anger, some with pity. Alex laughed out loud and then stifled it to a strangled giggle. "Sorry, your faces were a picture. By the way thanks for all speaking english but I need to get the hang of the lingo. So all conversations in Hebrew. I may ask for help and please do give me pointers when I look at bit lost".


	28. Chapter 28

_A Chapter dedicated to SnarryAddict123, you got me back in the moment with lovely assassin Alex Rider._

It was dark, as usual. Alex had been in the dark so long he had become accustomed to using touch and sound to move around and to scavenge the food and water. He had gotten used to the chain on his ankle, to being silent and was thankful he was being ignored. Water pooled and leaked into his cell. He had started to eat rats and bugs as in the last week as no rations had appeared. They had forgotten about him or they would not waste a bullet on the excess baggage. He had tried to keep track of time but without any routine or even torture sessions to gage the days, time bled together. It had been over four weeks, but apart from that Alex had no idea. He needed one of the guards to slip up, for them to slip up they had to remember about him. If he stayed here, chained in the pit of despair he would die of starvation. Not a happy thought. He needed to escape, no he needed to kill each and every one of the fuckers here. They needed to burn. Alex pulled himself back into the present. Daydreams and fantasies would get you nowhere. He had to stay in the here and now. He had to stay alert. He had to get out of here.

The door opened. Alex lay still, his back facing the door , his arms protecting his head. Others, new prisoners were being placed in his cell. The new arrivals were silent except from the sounds of their breathing. They then began to talk in low tones. There were four of them. Alex could smell blood and stale body odour. They had already been to visit the interrogator. Alex had been tortured but only to try and get David to talk. David had been brave and his conditioning and legend held. They thought David was a Syrian spy. They thought Alex was a rent boy, but hey, David had been fucking him when they'd been captured. Alex had not wanted the distraction of sex, but David had tied him up to get him to comply. Alex had not fought back. They thought he was a russian fuck toy. There were plenty of Russian whores even here in the back end of Iraq.

Alex concentrated on the hushed conversation in patchy arabic. They were talking of him, the lump of rags in the corner. "Is he alive?" "Maybe?" "He's breathing, shallow and regular." "Do you reckon he's a POW?" "Maybe?"

Alex spoke in russian, keeping in legend "Hello? Are you friends? My name is Sasha. I think they have forgotten about me. Do you have any food? I'm hungry. So, hungry." Alex sounded lost in despair and broken. Come to think of it maybe he was. "It is always dark, here. Always."

A gruff, deep voice spoke in halting russian, "How long you been here, kid?"

"Since 3rd March, 2005."

"Its the 18th June, Sasha."

"Have you seen, Darius? He was captured with me. They split us up last month. He is tall, dark haired and is Syrian."

"No we have not seen Darius."

Alex could not help himself as a sob escaped his throat. He was finding it so had to keep emotional control. David was dead. Mossie and Ari had left them to die or they were dead also. There was no extraction or bargaining for Black Ops Assassination teams. He was on his own. Mind you Alex knew only David liked him, no David had been ordered to like him. He was a foreigner, an asset to use and nothing more. None of the team felt any loyalty to him.

"I want to go home."

The gruff voice agreed "We all want to go home."

The next day all five of them were pulled out of the hole that was classed as a cell. Alex shielded his eyes as two insurgents dragged his emaciated body into the compound yard. Alex lay on the yard floor his head lifted as someone pulled his hair to show off his bearded filthy face. Alex guessed he was about to die. The guard let go of him and his head dropped into the dirt. All the guards then concentrated on the four other prisoners. They had forgotten about him again and the guard nearest to him was a perfect target with knife and gun within reach. In a burst of adrenaline, Alex was on his feet, the nearest guard had his neck proken, The sub machine gun barked and all the other guards were down, Alex grabbed the knife and cut the bonds of the four others, when he recognised two of them. K-unit, Snake and Wolf.

Alex ordered in english, "Grab some guns. This will be our only chance of escape and I've had enough of their hospitality."

They drove into the desert in a Landcruiser that had seen better days, a minimum of supplies scavenged. They needed to put distance between them and the now burning compound. "Head either north-east for Bagdad or West for Damascus. They will expect us to go to either so maybe just south to Basra, longer but safer in the end" said Alex to no one in particular. Wolf was driving as Snake wrapped a blanket around the blond russian mystery who now spoke perfect english.

"Basra it is." Wolf wanted answers about the youngster. Typical that the russians used teen agents as well. A lump came to Wolf's throat as he thought about Cub. Enquiries by MI6 to Mossad had come up blank. Those bastards would neither confirm or deny they had bought Alex from that Scorpia scum, Yassen Gregorovich. "So are you FSB?"

"No, Mossad. Fucking bastards burned me and my handler David. We had to have been betrayed or given up. Our legends held. Those nutjobs had no idea they had two Search and Destroy agents in their hands."

"Fuck, you're an assassin." Wolf then turned and looked at the walking skeleton "Cub?", before turning to keep his eye on the dusty and rutted road.

"I was waiting for you to recognise me, Wolf. I'd be lying if I said I was glad to see you. I'm just glad to be alive and in one piece. How the hell did those nutters get the up on K-unit?"

"Long story." said Wolf

Snake then spoke for the first time, "Bad intel, fucking Yanks led us into a complete fuck up. Two other units died. We have however removed that entire cell of insurgents, so objective completed in the end."

"We are not out of the woods yet. Still in bandit country. Hell the Yanks are more likely to kill us than anyone else." stated a stoic and frankly depressing Wolf. Ever the realist, their troubles were not over yet.


	29. Chapter 29

Alex slept fitfully seated between Snake and Lynx. Snake checked him occasionally. Clammy skin, cold, his breathing shallow but thankfully regular. Cub was filthy but then they all were. The kid had grown about eight inches since Snake had last seen him four years ago, but was dangerously thin. They drove through the night and were lucky to cover the 400km with no interruptions and only two bathroom breaks, Cub slept through both.

The outskirts of Basra approached. Their first checkpoint. "Shit, Mouse whose manning it. Please say its one of ours."

"Aussies." said the guy sitting shotgun.

"Right, we play this cool. We all need medical attention. Hopefully they are on the look out for us." Wolf slowed down and everyone put their hands in view. All except Alex who was wrapped like a mummy in a blanket.

Corporal Mac Henderson noted the four grim faced men in the Landcruiser and the shaggy blond hair of a sleeping young man. His instincts screamed, his signal put all at the checkpoint on their guard.

Alex woke as the SUV slowed, but he kept his eyes closed. He half listened to Wolf and the others talk about the checkpoint and the teams of soldiers stopping, checking and searching the vehicles entering Basra. Alex felt the hot dry air enter the car as Wolf lowered the window and introduced himself by name and with a string of code words. Wolf then added they all needed immediate medical attention, especially Cub. Alex tried to laugh but it turned into a dry hacking cough. He was back to being Cub as Snake told him to drink. A bottle of water was pressed to his lips and he took small sips, remembering anything larger would induce vomiting.

Alex had noted the soldier on patrol was an Aussie from his accent. Alex opened his eyes and tried to focus to see if he recognised anyone from his time at Perth, but everything remained blurry and his eyes watered in the bright sunlight. Doors opened, all the others exited. Snake began ordering the soldiers to be careful. Arms gripped Alex and he was pulled from the car and gently laid on the tarmac. Snake with a first aid kit started to do a thorough check on Cub. He got as far as noting the scars, scabs and misaligned bones. "Oh Christ Cub, what did those bastards do to you?"

Alex did not care about the past. He smiled. The sun was warm on his face. He had escaped the eternal dark. He looked up and knew he was hallucinating. Knelt down next to him was Jack. She had tears in her eyes. Alex smiled even though he was now crying, talking to his sister. "Don't leave me Jack. Take me with you. I miss you so much." Alex hiccuped and then whispered. "I'm sorry Jack. I Love you. Please don't leave me alone again. Please." His voice was failing. He could see blackness closing in at the edes of his vision. He reached out to Jack, his arm feeling like lead.

Somewhere in the background Snake asked "Who's Jack?"

Alex woke to a familiar room. St. Dominic's Room eight, third floor, high dependancy unit. He blinked. Wolf was sat reading the sports pages in the Sun. "You woke me to tell me how Manchester United are doing. Shit, tell me Chelsea won, but Man U are a complet and utter bunch of losers."

"Nice to see you awake Cub. You've slept for nearly two weeks, this is after going into cardiac arrest in the chopter. Snake had to give you CPR. He still having nightmares about the mouth to mouth bit."

"Sorry did I use too much tongue." Alex grimaced. No wonder his mouth tasted rank.

"Shut up Cub. I need to get the nurse and doc to look at you." Wolf strode out.

The doctors came and went. Alex had had three surgeries already, reseting misaligned bones. He was due for several visits to the plastic surgeon as well. He'd had a bout of pneumonia and several septic infections. He had been lucky, but he had at least another two months in hospital. Physiotherapy and a lot of head shrinking to look forward to. Alex looked a bit like a mummy. He was severely anaemic, underweight and weak as a kitten. No one mentioned the last year.

Wolf visited the next day with a bag of grapes. Alex was surprised to see him again. It wasn't like they were friends.

"Snake will visit on Saturday probably with his kids. He talking about returning to his regiment. Something about too much excitement."

"Business as usual if you ask me. I've been threatened with a long slow painful death regularly since my fourteenth birthday. Come to think of it, you were the one threatening at one point. Double O Nothing. Thats me."

"You were in a bad way, Cub. You nearly died."

"I wanted to go with Jack. Go back to living in Chelsea. Her bad cooking. Me being a good student. Ian phoning occasionally when he remembered he had a nephew. The good old days."

"Is that who you talking to, when you were on the stretcher?" Wolf looked concerned, speaking in soft tones, like he cared.

Alex could not equate this man with his life and experiences. Alex had been here eighteen months ago after trying to kill himself. There were no concerned friends or colleagues then. Just some faceless strangers from MI6 who signed the papers sectioning him. "Fuck off Wolf. Fuck off back to MI6 or Brecon or wherever you crawled from. No one cares about me. I figured that out at the age of 15 after Jack died. Even the fucking bank didn't want me. I was a fucking basket case. Full on PTSD, depression and paranoia. Yassen found me and then he sold me to those cunts in Tel Aviv. At least I always knew he was a grade A bastard. He killed my uncle Ian, did you know that. With two bullets he ruined my life. The sad thing is... He's the best friend I have. My only friend." Alex looked at the guard on the door. This was a prison just as much as Iraq.


End file.
